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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007159">requiem</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/authormin/pseuds/authormin'>authormin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEVENTEEN (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Angst, Cellos, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, M/M, Orchestra, PLOT HOLES BC I DIDN'T REALLY EVER GO BACK ON THE CHAPTERS LOL SORRY, Past Relationship(s), Rivals to Lovers, Sad Ending, Sad and Happy, Soft Hong Jisoo | Joshua, The Author Regrets Nothing, Violins, Winter, Yoon Jeonghan Being an Asshole, Yoon Jeonghan-centric, absolutely nothing, bc the author changed her mind and now she wants suffering, eleven years lmao, innocent hong jisoo, jeonghan acts like a kid tho so??, just kidding, like he's so sheltered send help to this poor kid, more like rivals, not a lot of fluff tho lol, oh wait there's a tag for that lol, older yoon jeonghan, please?, someone make that a tag???, this is a prewritten fic so updates will be regular, very sad, wait no there isn't nvm, yay thats a tag!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 22:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,750</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/authormin/pseuds/authormin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeonghan is a past-his-prime cellist clinging onto the fragment of a chance to return to the stage he once performed on. </p><p>	Jisoo is a prodigal violinist born into an elite family but he’s slowly losing the ability to hear. </p><p>	Jeonghan’s rough around the edges and his gruffness is faced head on with Jisoo’s sheltered upbringing - both of them are honest to a fault but in extremely different ways. In Jeonghan’s case, he acts out whenever he sees fit. For Jisoo, it’s because he’s never talked to anyone younger than the age of thirty until he was allowed to leave home to go to university. </p><p>	But when Jeonghan starts to realize that maybe Jisoo is the best thing that's ever happened to him, it's like his life purpose is being rewritten and reformed into something beyond music, something beyond the only comfort he's ever known. </p><p>         Jisoo comes flying into Jeonghan's life at a million miles per hour and plows through his life like it's nothing and honestly? Jeonghan starts to have a hard time complaining about it. </p><p> </p><p>(will update every monday!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hong Jisoo | Joshua/Yoon Jeonghan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. a step forward means nothing, really</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi! so. basically im not taking down the notice bc i still wont be updating my other fics for now! ill return by the end of may though! however, ive had a couple of prewritten fics, but they were all very short and didn't focus on any character development besides the main ship. so i decided now would be the best time to post them! this fic is very short (five chapters) and will not focus on any other relationship besides jeonghan/jisoo! so please understand that other characters will not being showing up left and right! in addition, the whole ~vibe~ of this fic is supposed to be very melancholic and reminscent of the past, so if it sounds vague, please don't hesitate to ask!! i did that on prurpose but i realize that it can be confusing. anyways, i hope you enjoy this! itll update every monday regulary! thank you.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, everybody! The seating chart has finally been posted up front by the conductor’s stand. It’s been decided that we’re going with Chief Conductor Park this time.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan forgets the name of the guy who’s speaking over the quiet murmur of voices that comes from the members of the orchestra. A manager, though. Jeonghan remembers that much. Seokmin nudges Jeonghan’s arm all of a sudden, laughing a bit before he speaks. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeonghan, you’ve been cleaning your stand for the last five minutes. What’re you thinking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan shrugs and sets down the cloth, folding it neatly into a thin square before tucking it into his case. “Nothing. Hey, did you see the list yet? Did you get the first chair this time?”</p><p> </p><p>Seokmin smiles brightly. It doesn’t match his words. “Nope! Well, I mean, I’m in the first trumpet section, but like, you know. It’s kind of hard to compete against a guy with twenty-eight years of experience. I’m just trusting that I’ll get there one day.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan lets out a noncommittal hum as his reply. Seokmin takes it with a small grin. </p><p> </p><p>His fingers tremble and he goes back to closing up his cello case. Maybe it’s time to get a new one. The velvet’s wearing out a bit on the sides, fraying where the latches close the case up. </p><p> </p><p>Seokmin hitches his trumpet case up onto his waist and jerks his head towards the practice room hall. “We should go. Can’t be late, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan nods. “Go ahead first. I gotta check out what position I got.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t you just know that you’re the first chair?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan grunts a bit at the weight of his instrment when he picks it up. “I’m a returning player. I’ve missed years at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if the conductor was trying to edge me out for a different player. Honestly, I’m kind of shocked that the company took me back this quickly. Musicians are about as replaceable as last week’s bread.”</p><p> </p><p>Seokmin giggles like Jeonghan’s just said the funniest joke in the world. “Mastermind cellist, Yoon Jeonghan, who sat as the first chair for his section when he was only twenty-four. Getting <em> edged out </em>? Not gonna happen. Besides. A genius player getting swapped out for a fresh newbie is a stupid move. You know that, Jeonghan. C’mon. Let’s go.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan smiles as much as he can. </p><p> </p><p>His hand hurts. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>When Jeonghan opens the door to the practice rooms for the strings, he’s met with applause. </p><p>It’s polite. </p><p> </p><p>It’s perfectly in sync, which is funny. It’s like a loud metronome. </p><p> </p><p>“Welcome back, Jeonghan.”</p><p> </p><p>Wonwoo gives him a friendly grin. The viola that he holds up to his neck looks freshly cleaned but the bow isn’t anywhere to be seen. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan returns the smile and sets his case down before his back breaks in half. “It’s good to see you guys again.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s only one new face in the crowd. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a strange feeling. It bothers Jeonghan that the person he wanted to see isn’t here.</p><p> </p><p>The unfamiliar man doesn’t do anything but blink a bit at Jeonghan. Wonwoo seems to notice that Jeonghan doesn’t know who the new guy is and steps between them. “Oh, Jeonghan, this is Hong Jisoo. Hong Jisoo, Yoon Jeonghan. First chair for cellists.”</p><p>Jisoo’s pretty. </p><p> </p><p>But he looks like he’s annoying. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan blames that thought on the fact that Jisoo looks so <em> blank </em>, with his expression unmoving and his body frozen in place. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Jisoo-ssi.” Jeonghan holds out his hand for shaking. Jisoo sticks his arm out robotically, takes Jeonghan’s hand, and pumps his wrist up and down exactly three times before letting go to stand up straight again. </p><p> </p><p>Huh. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh,” Wonwoo steps in between them, like he’s trying to cut the tension down. That isn’t like him. “Jisoo’s the concertmaster.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan blanches. “What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Wonwoo looks like he’s been caught with his pants down and Jisoo just blinks again, like he’s confused as to why Jeonghan’s dumbfounded. Wonwoo answers quietly. “Seungcheol quit a couple months ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan takes that like a punch to the gut. </p><p> </p><p>So. </p><p> </p><p>He returned for no reason, huh?</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Practice stretches out for three hours before the first break. It’s the first warmup of the season, so it’s just repetitive scales and quick songs and arpeggios and whatever else Jeonghan plays. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not really in the mindset to focus. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan excuses himself to head out for a breath of fresh air. The stale atmosphere of the practice room is nearly suffocating, with the stench of thin sweat and cheap cologne and wood shaving and cleaning products clogging up Jeonghan’s nose almost aggressively. He’s wandering down the hall in the direction of the bathroom so he can wash his face with some cold water, but he takes his time to admire the posters that line the walls. </p><p> </p><p>Not a single one has been changed. </p><p> </p><p>This stupid building never changes. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan somehow reaches the end of the corridor and he’s about to turn left when Jisoo steps out of the corner and bumps into Jeonghan. Up close and without the slouch he had earlier, Jisoo’s actually closer to Jeonghan’s height than he thought. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m s-”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo interrupts with a blunt, “You know, it’s practice time. You should be doing exactly that. Please focus on the music rather than your daydreams. It’s audible, how much effort you put into your songs. Even if it is a warm up, you should take it seriously.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s Jeonghan’s turn to blink stupidly. </p><p> </p><p>He was right about the annoying part. </p><p> </p><p>Just because he’s the new concertmaster doesn’t mean he gets to say shit like he <em> knows </em> why Jeonghan was spacing off in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>“Who the <em> fuck </em> do you think you are?”</p><p> </p><p>There it is. </p><p> </p><p>His ugly habit. </p><p> </p><p>It’s rearing his head again. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s eyes widen like he’s just been told that Jeonghan had killed his whole family with a chainsaw. </p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Seungcheol’s spot,” Jeonghan spits out, unable to contain the sudden burst of anger that rips through his body like a tidal wave. It’s a scary feeling to lose control <em> this </em> easily, but he doesn’t seem to be able to stop himself. “You took it. You <em> took </em> it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes? Of course I did - I was offered the position when he left.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s voice is scarily steady, but it doesn’t seem to be because he’s confident that Jeonghan can’t hurt him. Rather, it’s like - </p><p> </p><p>It’s like he really doesn’t understand that Jeonghan’s mad at him. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not the <em> point </em>, you little -”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo holds up his hand. “It’s time to head back. Please use the facilities and return quickly. The first chair of any section must be a bit more diligent and responsible. I understand you’ve left for a while, but I doubt that aspect has changed. Image is important, Jeonghan-ssi.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Jisoo can walk off, Jeonghan takes hold of his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>It’s extremely skinny. He wonders how hard he has to squeeze in order to get a reaction out of Jisoo.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t turn his body to look at Jisoo, and Jisoo doesn’t move either. He makes no move to pull his arm away, either, so Jeonghan takes the opportunity to say what he’s struggling to hold back. </p><p> </p><p>“Be careful, Jisoo-ssi. I’m hardly nice.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo finally moves, but for some reason, it’s not to get Jeonghan to let go of him. He just walks backwards a couple of steps so he’s looking right at Jeonghan’s face. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re hurting me.” Jisoo’s face is unflinching. “Please, let go of my wrist, it hurts.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan drops Jisoo’s wrist and storms off into the bathroom. He slams the door behind him as hard as he can, gritting his teeth when the door swings back and lands into the lock with a crackling snap. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>He thought he’d gotten better. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It had started off as a sore pain that would tingle its way down Jeonghan’s wrist whenever he tried to pick up particularly heavy objects like his cello case. Annoying, sure, but nothing unbearable. </p><p> </p><p>The tingling soon grew into constant cramps and aches that would shoot down his whole arm, even when all he did was pick up a cup of coffee to his mouth or lift his elbows to start playing. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan never stopped playing, never stopped pressing the strings, never stopped drawing his bow across his instrument, sliding back and forth to reach the perfect note, never stopped moving, never stopped playing, never stopped playing, never stopped playing never stopped playing never stopped playing never - </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Snap.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>That’s all it took. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan remembers the scream he let out. </p><p> </p><p>His bow had struck one of the strings at an odd angle because his hand had jerked up for some reason. </p><p> </p><p>The string broke in half and so did three ligaments in his wrist. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan had never stopped playing, not since he picked up the instrument for the first time, too big for his body but smooth and curved and inviting and intimidating and heavy and - </p><p> </p><p>And then he had to stop. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Even though Jisoo makes Jeonghan want to tear a mattress apart with nothing but his nails, he has to admit that his playing is <em> gorgeous </em>. </p><p> </p><p>It’s way past the time to end practice, but a couple of stragglers had stayed behind to continue playing. Sejeong, Mr. Kim, Jisoo, and Jeonghan stick around, each sitting at a separate corner in the room and going through their own work. </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Kim leaves first, after leafing through a couple of programs. He teaches at the community center on the weekends. There must be a student recital coming up. </p><p> </p><p>Sejeong sits quietly by herself, violin sitting on her lap while she marks up sheet music like crazy. She leaves soon after Mr. Kim, with a pretty smile that engulfs her eyes and a cheery goodbye. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan isn’t really staying behind to do anything, but he’s decided that he needs to apologize to Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s the concertmaster. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he deserves it, maybe he doesn’t. </p><p> </p><p>But.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan can’t exactly be getting into fights with everyone he meets, either. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t seem to find the timing, though, because Jisoo plays note after note after note - </p><p> </p><p>Concerto in D major. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not exactly the prettiest of songs, but it’s known to be popular amongst violinists. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo doesn’t look like a musician. </p><p> </p><p>He just looks like a part of the violin, fingers flowing like water as he jumps from measure to measure. His eyes are wide open, but they don’t look at the sheet music; instead, they’re focused on the general area in front of him. </p><p> </p><p>After going through the whole piece, Jisoo lets out a sigh and presses his fingers into his temple and groans quietly, like his head’s about to burst into a million pieces. Jeonghan’s been doing nothing for the past thirty minutes besides fiddling around with his phone. </p><p> </p><p>“Done yet?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo looks up and jumps in his seat, clearly surprised that he’s not alone. His face flinches, and Jisoo starts blinking rapidly. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yes. I am. Sorry, I thought everyone left.”</p><p> </p><p>“I guess not.” Jeonghan points to himself to try and make a joke but he ends up with a grimace on his face. This is awkward. “I just have something to say to you -”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan bites back his annoyance with getting interrupted. “<em> Yes </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Could you please come closer? I can’t hear you very well.” Jisoo puts down his violin on the seat next to him and places his palms on his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing in kind of raggedly. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan complies, getting out of his seat and walking over where Jisoo is. </p><p> </p><p>He’s about to start talking again when Jisoo lets out a low whimper and grabs Jeonghan’s hands. Jisoo places Jeonghan’s palms on his ears like he was earlier, and Jeonghan’s so surprised by this movement that he doesn’t know what to do. </p><p> </p><p>“Um, what the <em> fuck </em> are you doing?” Jeonghan asks with bewilderment clear in his voice. </p><p> </p><p>“Just a little bit longer, please,” Jisoo whispers, whining and squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He holds Jeonghan’s wrists with his hands and sucks in another uneven breath. “Can you press a bit harder?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan thinks he should clobber Jisoo in the face. </p><p> </p><p>But then Jisoo lets out another groan, indicating that he’s, for some reason, in a great deal of pain. Jeonghan can feel the slight sweat forming on Jisoo’s face with where his hands are placed. If an outsider were looking, it would seem like Jeonghan was cupping Jisoo’s head as if he were getting ready to kiss him. </p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just press harder, please?” Jisoo’s crying with his eyes shut now, and his nails dig into the back of Jeonghan’s hands sharply. “Please, please, pl- ”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan listens. </p><p> </p><p>He tightens his grip on Jisoo’s head, pushing the middle of his palms into Jisoo’s ears. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo takes a long time to calm down again. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>After that little spectacle in the practice room, Jeonghan had refused to let Jisoo walk off without an explanation. Jisoo wouldn’t spill, so the two of them had walked out of the building and all the way to the stone steps leading to the sidewalk. Jeonghan holds Jisoo’s elbow so he can’t run. </p><p> </p><p>He sits on the steps, which forces Jisoo to sit as well. </p><p> </p><p>The ground is cold underneath Jeonghan’s pants. </p><p> </p><p>“Care to explain what that was?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo shakes his head and looks at Jeonghan, eyes innocently opened wide. “No, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s unexpected. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan lets out a bark of laughter. </p><p> </p><p>What the fuck is wrong with Jisoo? </p><p> </p><p>“That wasn’t a question. What was that?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo sits on his hands and puffs his cheeks out. </p><p> </p><p>But still. </p><p> </p><p>He talks. </p><p>“I had an accident when I was a kid. So I developed hearing loss, and it’s been getting worse. And I can’t see that well either, so it scares me when my ears start ringing really bad. That’s why I asked you to do that. Because I was scared.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo looks up at Jeonghan through his lashes, tilting his head in earnest. </p><p> </p><p>“You talk like you’re twelve.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You just did. Were you an only child? Or the youngest?”</p><p> </p><p>“Only child.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.”</p><p> </p><p>“All of my friends were adults. Maybe that’s why, although I guess they weren’t really my friends.” Jisoo stretches his fingers in front of him and looks at his nails. “I don’t know how to talk to friends my age.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re friends?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, aren’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha!” Jeonghan laughs again. Seriously, this Jisoo guy has a screw loose or something. “Friends? Jisoo-ssi, I don’t know if you noticed, but I quite dislike you.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo gasps. </p><p> </p><p>Like, it sounds like a literal theatre stage gasp. With the single hand drawn up to cover his mouth and eyes full of shock. “But why?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the type of person I don’t like.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you, though. Why don’t you like me back? Why aren’t we friends? Aren’t we friends?”</p><p> </p><p>“How old are you, Jisoo-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>“Twenty-three.”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t even graduate college yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“I graduated five years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking smartass.”</p><p> </p><p>“How old are you, Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>“Thirty-five.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, now I know why we aren’t friends.”</p><p> </p><p>“And why’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you’re older than me. Friends have to be similar in age.”</p><p> </p><p>“Says who?”</p><p> </p><p>“Says all of my mom’s friends and my dad’s friends. That’s why <em> I </em> couldn’t be friends with them. They said I was a cute kid, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why not meet school friends?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I wasn’t allowed to go to school. I was privately taught at home.”</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s why you graduated quickly.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think so. And I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“For asking to be friends.” Jisoo folds his hands together and clasps them in his lap. “I didn’t know you were older than me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I look young?”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose. Not thirty-five.”</p><p> </p><p>“Age isn’t the reason we aren’t friends, Jisoo-ssi.”</p><p> </p><p>“It isn’t?”</p><p> </p><p>“You have to know someone well.”</p><p> </p><p>“Then can I get to know you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I like you. I want to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why do you like me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because you stayed with me.” Jisoo smiles. </p><p> </p><p>It’s warm. And soft. And Jeonghan feels bad for Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s it?”</p><p> </p><p>“For now, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have no plans to let you get closer to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Could I have your phone number?”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t you just hear what I said?”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask to hang out. I would like to be able to contact you, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan sighs. He takes his phone out. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s name sounds so soft coming out of Jisoo’s mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we be friends now? I know your phone number now.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not how this works.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to be your friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan can see how this conversation is going to play out. Jisoo’s going to keep asking <em> why </em> and Jeonghan’s going to run himself in circles trying to get Jisoo off his back. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s too bad, Jisoo-ssi.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because. I said so.”</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s hand hurts when he wakes up. </p><p> </p><p>He thinks about last night, how the air around them was chilled so that every breath he took showed up in the air, frosty clouds swirling past his lips like smoke. </p><p> </p><p>Is it bad that he wants to hurt Jisoo?</p><p> </p><p>The obvious answer is yes. </p><p> </p><p><em> He took Seungcheol’s spot </em>.  </p><p> </p><p>He’s young and <em> beyond </em> incapable of understanding basic human interaction. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan gets him and winces when he brushes out his hair roughly with his fingers. </p><p> </p><p>His hand hurts. </p><p> </p><p>A lot. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed! come back next monday to read another chapter if you enjoyed !! love you all and please stay safe out there.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. not the way it was supposed to go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi! guess who forgot that yesterday was monday? </p><p>yup! </p><p>anyways heres another updates :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Deep down, Jeonghan knows he’s petty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knows he’s mean just for the sake of being able to vent out his anger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not my fault. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not my fault. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not my fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To get something ripped away from you like that, to get something that made you want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to get something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>essential</span>
  </em>
  <span> to your being stolen from you -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t Jeonghan’s fault. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The universe is to blame here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it was just going to shred Jeonghan’s life apart in seconds, it should have been less cruel. It should have just killed him from the get-go. To fill his life with purpose, to keep him alive and well, just to end it with three measly tears in his hand and a surgery, it’s just plain </span>
  <em>
    <span>sadistic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No amount of “coping” can change that fact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The orchestra meets in its full 118-member glory in the performance hall (that doubles as a concert venue when it’s recital season) to receive their program. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nutcracker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A classic, just in time for the upcoming Christmas season. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan played it before, when he was in his late twenties. He remembers it being long enough to physically drain him, and that was when his hand was fine. Jeonghan’s shoulder tenses like it can feel the ghost of tension that had filled him years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chief Conductor Park is on top of the conductor’s stand, announcing that there will be two weeks of self-practice before official rehearsals start with sections, and then merging into the full orchestra. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three months to learn it total. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan rolls his wrist around. He feels like it’s aching a lot more than usual. It disgusts Jeonghan how weak his body is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mingyu, the lanky clarinetist who likes to make a fuss over anyone and everyone, lets out a little noise when he sees Jeonghan pull his fingers back to try and stretch them. He drags Wonwoo over from their spot by the edge of the stage over to Jeonghan, who was in the middle of setting up his instrument. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan, is your wrist okay? I have bandage wrap if you want, or Icy-Hot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan smiles at Mingyu’s warm gesture but shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t want to get used to having to rely on those. Besides, if I can’t even take this much, I’m not suited to hold my position.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan, that’s irrational.” Wonwoo lets out a quiet, </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsk</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he doesn’t push. Jeonghan appreciates that about Wonwoo - he never pushes.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s irrational.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan, Mingyu, and Wonwoo simultaneously turn to look at Jisoo, who’s popped out of nowhere. Wonwoo blinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo holds his hand out gently. “I’ll take the wrap. I can fit Jeonghan-ssi’s hand for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hatred in his eyes must be glaringly obvious because Mingyu clears his throat nervously. “Oh, I mean, Jeonghan sa- ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shakes his head firmly, with that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> little expression he wears, the whimiscally-innocent look that makes him seem much younger than he is, which is already pretty fucking young. “Injuries should be prevented if possible. Jeonghan-ssi, as first chair, you need to take care of yourself. It’s not safe to continue to push your muscles and ligaments to the limit. If you do -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the love of </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just shut up.” Jeonghan puts his cello into its little stand. “I’ll take the wrap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mingyu nods, quickly stumbling around his pocket to grab the pack of bandages. Wonwoo gets called over to his section by another player, and Mingyu gives Jeonghan a look that says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’ll talk later</span>
  </em>
  <span>, before running back to his group. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo holds the bandages in his hand and gives Jeonghan a tiny smile. “Please hold your hand out, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan does so, but with an annoyed huff. “You don’t know how bad I want to punch you right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan feels his eye tick at that word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Does this kid not have any other response?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re very persistent. Disgustingly so.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I take that in a good way?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure how you could.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo presses the edge of the bandage wrap into itself so there’s no loose ends. “There. All done.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan shifts his hand around. The pressure definitely feels better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he lets out, eyes wandering around so he can avoid looking at Jisoo’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re very welcome.” Jisoo grins brightly. Jeonghan averts his gaze. “Could I ask you a question?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan closes  up his cello case and clicks the latches into place. “Ah. I knew you had an interior motive in place.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Jisoo doesn’t back down. “Can I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you think Seungcheol-ssi leaving is a valid reason to be mean to me? I don’t want you to be mean to me. I’d like it if you liked me back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan acts before he can think. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hooks his good hand under Jisoo’s stupidly perfect collar and yanks his stupidly light body close to his own, and stares right into Jisoo’s stupidly pretty eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Toasted pecans. With honey. Or maybe milk tea? Something warm, probably. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a good reason,” Jeonghan spits out, tightening his grip on the front of Jisoo’s shirt. “You’re just the easiest person to blame.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s completely unjustifiable and Jeonghan is petty and - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But he left by himself. Because of personal issues. I didn’t have anything to do with it, Jeonghan-ssi. Please talk to him. And then you can like me back!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s childish way of talking is really starting to dig at Jeonghan’s nerves, gnawing away at his composure like an incessant beaver. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo-ssi, it’s time for you to do your job.” Jeonghan lets go of Jisoo’s shirt and lets out a deep breath. He feels pressure build up at his temple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Jeonghan-ssi. It’s good to t- ”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Concertmaster,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Jeonghan says through tight lips, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re being called for</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I’m going deaf but I can tell when someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> saying my name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol was Jeonghan’s friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Friend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s such an ugly word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan and Seungcheol would toe at the edge of their boundaries and push and pull but would still never </span>
  <em>
    <span>cross</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Jeonghan was scared, probably. He never even knew what familial love was but he suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> Seungcheol to be his. Seungcheol had fun with Jeonghan’s reactions, most likely, but Jeonghan was blind to the man he loved. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seungcheol fell for someone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A guy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first time Jeonghan got angry was because he hated himself for hesitating. The whole time, he kept his limits in check because he was sure that Seungcheol was straight. He didn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span> what love was, sure, but even his oblivious self understood that going for a man was a risk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second time Jeonghan got angry was when he met Seungcheol’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>boyfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the first time. Jeonghan had built up an image of this </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span> in his head, someone so perfect, someone who was worthy of Seungcheol. Someone he was surely to fail against side by side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It turned out to be a short, stickly </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span> (well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but still) with thin eyes and an even thinner smile. He barely hit Jeonghan’s chin when standing up straight and when he laughed, it sounded like tinkling glass and he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>breakable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it was Jeonghan who ended up shattering. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lee Jihoon was Seungcheol’s “perfect man”?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan felt ripped off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he got over it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After all, the love of his life was the cello. Despite how much his heart had screamed when he came home that day after meeting Jihoon, he drew his bow across the strings of his cello and hummed along to the melody he created with his fingers - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he wasn’t sad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The music that poured out of his instrument had taken his pain away, had created </span>
  <em>
    <span>beauty</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of it, had comforted him while Jeonghan was crying and humming and playing and struggling to breathe while looking out the window of his apartment, down at the street, watching the tiny little figures and shadows of </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span> going about their days, the confusion and betrayal he felt at Seungcheol’s decision to be with someone like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jihoon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, all of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His cello had </span>
  <em>
    <span>erased</span>
  </em>
  <span> it and formed something utterly breathtaking over it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Jeonghan blames Seungcheol more than the universe for his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The ligaments in his wrist had snapped when he hit the crescendo, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>peak</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his song - just like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bow had clattered onto the floor after screeching against the strings it hit on its way down and the cello itself crashed tipped over Jeonghan’s lap and broke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like he lost his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was like he was stripped naked, shoved into a crowd without clothes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had felt tears spill from his eyes that day while breathing heavily slumped over the floor, fingers twitching in the air and muscles screaming for help. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long ago was that? Four years? Three? A million? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan hasn’t cried since. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Self-practice is </span>
  <em>
    <span>brutal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jeonghan’s break clearly took a toll on his agility, and his hand kept freezing up all throughout the morning. But. There’s Jisoo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shows everyone </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was chosen as first violin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ability is </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes closed, chest stil, cheeks sucked in due to pinpoint concentration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His fingers don’t fly across the strings, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>dance</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They draw out the sound like it’s a part of Jisoo’s own body, his own </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the notes sound more like a cohesive song rather than an orchestral program. Like a wordless melody pouring out of the mouth of an angel rather than a Christmas piece. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks like he’s barely flicking his fingers around and the bow slides against the strings so quickly that Jeonghan has to really focus to see Jisoo’s wrist bobbing up and down to the beat of the metronome that clicks out from the chair next to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo doesn’t play the whole piece through, in order to announce that everyone should practice up to the part he just demonstrated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jungwoo, a rather new addition to the cello section, bounds up to Jeonghan after Jisoo explains how to prepare. Jungwoo wasn’t here when Jeonghan left for his break five years ago, but he had met the younger man during a quick visit to say hi to everyone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sunbae, sunbae! Would you mind playing the measures for us? Even Joohyun noona requested that you play a bit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan smiles. Jungwoo’s cute. He’s got a lot of room for growth. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s about to place his bow in his hand to get ready to play when he makes eye contact with Jisoo from across the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s glaring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan holds back a scoff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What’d he do now? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sunbae, you've played this before, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan plays the first note. It sounds good. “Yup. Now watch closely, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan closes his eyes and starts breathing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t need to feel anything but the strings underneath the rough pads of his fingertips and he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s the last person to clean up and finish packing to go home. He’s been scuttling around all day, working with the other members in his section to guide them into playing their parts and sightreading better. His experience with having played the song before requires less focus on the actual learning on Jeonghan’s part, but still. He didn’t go through nearly as much as he wanted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan decides that he’ll leave his cello in the storage room. He’s coming back tomorrow, and it’s not like he doesn’t have enough to practice with at home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s reached the main lobby when he’s stopped by Jisoo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>batshit crazy</span>
  </em>
  <span> on this guy one day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Probably soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi!” Jisoo opens up his arms into a T-pose, smiling brightly as he blocks Jeonghan from leaving through the doors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s me,” Jeonghan replies, rather flatly. “Do you need something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go buy coffee. I’d like to talk to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything. Everything. Nothing.” Jisoo drops his arms and looks down at his feet rather sheepishly. “I don’t want to go home right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My parents are upset.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh. Sucks to suck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo does that stupid signature pout of his, where he draws his cheeks in and furrows his brows while looking up so his eyes look bigger and rounder. “You don’t act like you’re thirty-five.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t act like you’re twenty-whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Four. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m twenty-four.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember asking. Now, move. Kudos to you for not wanting to go back, but I need to head home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Jeonghan-ssi! Just coffee. I’ll never ask you again!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wonders why he can’t find the heart to say no. He wishes it was because he realizes that his petty actions aren’t warranted, but the truth is, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> his immaturity would never let him admit that. Which ironic, because he basically just admitted it, while refusing to admit it -</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t act his age.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sits with his arms and legs crossed and the park bench that he’s on is icy underneath his jeans. The jacket he’s wearing kept him warm on the way here, but once he stopped moving, the cold air of winter had started to bite at his exposed face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo takes about ten minutes before he’s running across the empty lawn of the park, two cups of hot coffee in his hand. He looks like he’s never ran in life, with a gleeful smile etched into his face while he bounds across the grass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How does he have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> fear?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Has Jisoo ever left the safety of his own house before?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo sits down and hands Jeonghan his cup. Jeonghan takes it with a quiet, “thanks”.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi, I actually had something important to ask you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan snorts and takes a sip of his drink. His throat flushes with heat and he feels less like dying of hypothermia. “Gee, really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo nods with enthusiasm. “Yes, really.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan laughs this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s so pure that it’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>sickening</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, really. You can ask me whatever you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never said I’d answer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, Jeonghan-ssi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan laughs again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This feels strange. When’s the last time he’s laughed like this? Genuinely? Because he legitimately wanted to? And why is he doing it in front of Jisoo? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me about Seungcheol sunbae.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about him?” Jeonghan takes another sip of his coffee. It’s bitter this time. “He was a great violinist.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as good as you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you like him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s bewildered for a moment, confused as to how Jisoo figured that out. But then he remembers Jisoo’s definition of “like” means “friends”, so the initial shock fades quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. We were close.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why were you upset to find out that he left? Did he not say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been out of contact with him for a while,” Jeonghan admits. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shut up, Jeonghan. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I thought that when I came back, I could talk to him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did he leave, Jeonghan-ssi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because.” Jeonghan finds himself contemplating whether he should tell the truth or not. Jisoo looks at him, the same puppy-dog face that’s been staring at him a lot for the past couple of days - Jeonghan decides that Jisoo’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugly</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I’m talented, Jisoo. He couldn’t beat me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s half the truth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo doesn’t need to hear the real story. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a thick lull in any noise once Jeonghan answers. Jisoo looks like he’s trying to piece together a sentence that would be a good fit to respond with, by breaking apart and mashing together words in his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s logical and calculative without being able to keep his emotions in check, it seems. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo finally looks up and Jeonghan takes it as a cue that he’s decided on what he’s going to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any questions for me, Jeonghan-ssi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan thinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jisoo’s face is full of anticipation, like he’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>itching</span>
  </em>
  <span> to hear what Jeonghan has to ask him, so Jeonghan racks his brain for a possible question to ask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem pretty sheltered. How’d you grow up, is my question. I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, my parents are both pretty well off, with them working at a law firm and hospital. I went to a private elementary school, but when they found out I was pretty smart, they pulled me out in third grade and homeschooled me with a private tutor. I think it was a very rushed move, to be honest. Since I was so young, there was no way to guarantee that my intelligence would last until adulthood. They signed me up for violin the following year and I was just very good at it. They realized this and pushed me to do the best I could. I really disliked it at first, but I grew to love it.” Jisoo pauses for a moment and then smiles. “Just like what you’re doing with me. I think that you can hate me now, but maybe love me, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan nearly spits out the coffee in his mouth. The slightly-childish way Jisoo talks in is kind of distracting for some reason. “I won’t fall in love with you, dumbass. You use that word with the person you’re in a relationship with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, do you like me more?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it.” Jeonghan wants to take another sip of his drink just to have something to do, but it’s empty. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> apologize though. I know it was wrong of me to take out my anger on you. Seungcheol and I didn’t fall apart for that exact reason I just said, but there were a lot of layers. Seeing that he really left for good made me realize that, you know, he was replaceable. I didn’t want him to be. I didn’t want to admit that it was mostly my fault and that he probably quit because of me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I forgive you, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you. I hope you like me back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You wish.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I do wish? It’s what I’ve been saying, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s a sa - nevermind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi, you’re funny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo giggles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like the fluttering wings of a silken butterfly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Quiet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo is an enigma. Wrapped in a puzzle, covered by a mystery, and then some more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Caged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Surprisingly strong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Skinny. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would be easy to hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan puts his cup down on the ground so he doesn’t have to worry about dropping it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was informal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jeonghan-ssi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan grabs the lapels of Jisoo’s jacket and roughly pulls him forward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft</span>
  </em>
  <span> everywhere, thin and lanky underneath the jacket, but his lips are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Jeonghan’s hands are shaking and they’re icy cold, probably more so than the midnight air whipping around them, what is Jeonghan </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he doesn’t know Jisoo, he’s eleven years older than Jisoo - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Jisoo starts kissing him back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s a bit awkward and his hands stutter in the air but Jeonghan guides them around his own shoulders and Jisoo curls into the kiss like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do it, he pulls Jeonghan closer shakily and wraps an arm around Jeonghan’s neck, and then Jisoo </span>
  <em>
    <span>mewls</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jeonghan can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jisoo is so soft. He tastes like his coffee and his lips are flush against Jeonghan’s, they’re just </span>
  <em>
    <span>so soft</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Jeonghan can’t help biting them in a teasing manner, smiling when Jisoo’s nose twitches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How can anyone be so soft?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan kisses Jisoo like there’s nothing left on the earth to do, and the two of them fall into a heated rhythm of desperate lips and Jeonghan doesn’t know what he wants to hold first, Jisoo’s waist, his shoulders, he wants to cradle his head and then all of a sudden Jisoo pulls back with a wince. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, that was -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shakes his head, eyes bleary with unspilled tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan feels his stomach sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My ears hurt.” Jeonghan dips his head and presses his forehead into Jeonghan’s, he’s so close that Jeonghan can smell the sweet cinnamon sugar on Jisoo’s breath, and he moves his hands up to Jisoo’s ears like he did before, cupping them before pushing his palms over them. “Make them stop hurting, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan spreads his fingers while keeping his palms in place, which allows him to tug Jisoo’s face gently towards his own again. He puts pressure on his hands like he did before until the sour expression on Jisoo’s face lightens up again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needs Jisoo on him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bench only grows colder but Jeonghan can’t stop this is so addicting - the scent of honey fills his nose and Jisoo’s crying but he’s just placing himself into Jeonghan’s body even further, carving out a space and moving into it - Jeonghan wants to keep this moment alive forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo is so soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wonders why Jisoo’s crying. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s first kiss was with a foreign exchange student who had shown up to his high school in a flurry of thin bones and cute expressions and a talent for playing the guitar. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan and Jun had fought the first day he arrived. Eighteen years later and Jeonghan couldn’t say why they did so, even if he had a gun pressed to his head. All he remembers is that his feet had landed kicks up and down Jun’s body and Jun had returned the ferocity with his own swift legs driving into Jeonghan’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them had to protect their hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then four days later, they were inside of an empty practice room after school, kissing each other sloppily and with the vigor of two excited, stupidly horny teenage guys who didn’t know what to do with their bodies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was probably the first time Jeonghan remembers in his past where he had come to the realization that emotions didn’t work the same for him as they did for everyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Basic reactions like laughter, like smiling, like crying - it was all beyond him. Not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>do it, but more like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it was a waste of time to feel something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had started with the violin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was supposed to be his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then, Seungcheol had thrown himself into Jeonghan’s perfectly-synced life and destroyed the very concept of routine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had given up the violin for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For Seungcheol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For someone other than himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a punch in the face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was it love? It certainly didn’t feel like a compromise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Seungcheol. Do you know what you do to me? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, Jeonghan. What do I do to you?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t say. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes you can. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t, Seungcheol. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be scared. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have nothing to lose, Seungcheol. So if I tell you I’m losing more than nothing. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Makes no sense, Hannie. But just tell me whenever, okay?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I gave up the spot for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You did what?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I ga -</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had felt nothing but his cheek tingle with a sharp sting. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i have a oneshot that i want to post but its like 20k words and possibly the saddest thing i wrote so like hmm im debating. i probably will but it feels wierd since ive never done a oneshot before. anyways. </p><p>fun fact! this fic was supposed to be a kuroo/kenma fic but then i got lazy writing the names out and also i just couldnt see either of them in an orchestra and just blargh but i dont thikn i made a mistake since the prompt kind of fits jihan well. </p><p>also side note ! i hope no one takes fanfics seriously! they are NOT realistic portrayals of any relationship and i feel like some fans forget that that these are real people that the stories are being written about! just my opinion but i kinda wanted to say that somwhere don't attack me for that though thx it just came to my mind when i was talking to a friend and she was kinda getting TOO into fics and i pointed out jokingly that theyre not real and she got v v upset w me and told me not to assume anything bc how would anyone know?? oy the irony hurt. </p><p>hope everyone has a lovely fucking week and please stay safeeeee ~! cant stress that enough!! social distancing works folks! thanks for reading :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. a truly fascinating case of falling in love (it's not love)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another monday another update!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jisoo’s sick. </p><p> </p><p>Horrible timing, really. </p><p>But also, Jeonghan’s relieved. </p><p>It’s been about three days since Jeonghan kissed Jisoo without reason, and he was dreading having to tell Jisoo that it was <em> impulse </em> , not because he really <em> felt </em> anything, but Jisoo called in sick the next day, and then the next, and then the next. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan had stumbled home that night as if he were drunk, thoughts so twisted and jumbled together that he probably wouldn’t have been able to say his own name if someone had asked. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Eleven years younger.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jisoo’s eleven years younger.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s got the mental and cognitive ability of a ten-year-old.  </em>
</p><p><em> Jisoo isn’t Jeongan’s type </em>. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Jisoo’s still a stranger where it counts.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Three weeks isn't a long time to know someone.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Nothing <em> sounds good </em> , but Jeonghan needs to make sure, it’s <em> absolutely imperative </em>, that Jisoo knows there’s nothing else coming from this. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan plucks at his strings with the edge of his finger and waits for Mrs. Lee to arrive. She’s an experienced player and familiar enough with the other members to lead them while Jisoo’s out, but there’s a strange sting when he thinks about someone else playing the pieces. </p><p> </p><p>But whatever. </p><p> </p><p>The only thing truly on his mind is the fact that -</p><p> </p><p>He. </p><p> </p><p><em> Kissed </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s not some kind of insatiable, horny teenager who can’t control himself. </p><p> </p><p>Why did he do it?</p><p> </p><p>He’s almost forty and he can’t even deal with his injury, with his feelings, with himself-</p><p> </p><p>It’s <em> infuriating </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan sighs when the door opens and Mrs. Lee walks in with a bright, crooked grin and her long scarf spilling off her neck like a thin red snake. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It’s been <em> five </em> days and Jeonghan kind of hates himself for worrying. </p><p> </p><p>It’s <em> reasonable </em> to be worried, right? Everyone else is. Being sick in itself isn’t the best thing, but having to miss five days of work is just - </p><p> </p><p>It’s normal to want to check up on Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p>Something inside of him feels itches and tickles his heart. </p><p> </p><p><em> Ring. Ring. Ringggggggg </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s phone lights up with a call but it’s connected to the speaker in his car so he continues to drive as he answers. He’s so distracted though, that he nearly slides halfway into the next lane. A car honks ferociously at him and Jeonghan curses a bit to align the vehicle in his lane correctly. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. That was close. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello? Jeonghan?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, Wonwoo, it’s me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I got Jisoo’s address. It’s listed in the directory. Still want me to text it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” Jeonghan slows the car down as he rolls in front of a stoplight. “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“No problem.” Wonwoo pauses, and Jeonghan’s about to say goodbye so he can hang up, but then there’s a rustling noise that spreads through the speaker that keeps him from clicking the red phone icon on the screen. “Jeonghan?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re okay, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jisoo’s cute, isn’t he?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan finds himself narrowing his eyes. <em> It’s because it’s dark out </em> . Jeonghan laughs at himself when he realizes that he’s trying to make an excuse for being <em> annoyed </em> . At <em> Wonwoo </em>. The sheer ridiculousness of his sudden pissed-off mood surprises him enough to remember what Jisoo felt like under him. “Why, is he your type?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, and it surprises me because he isn’t yours, either.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like him, though? I think you’re mist- ”</p><p> </p><p>“I know it doesn’t look like I’m aware of my surroundings, but you definitely don’t <em> not </em> like him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Your grammar gives me headaches, Wonwoo.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bastard.” Wonwoo lets out a quiet chuckle. “I think he’s going to be easy to snatch up, Jeonghan. You should make your move before someone else swoops in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Too late.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha. Very f- ” Wonwoo gasps so loud that the receiver whines with a squeal. “Jeonghan! Jeonghan, dude! What did you do! Jeonghan, Jeonghan!”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye!”</p><p> </p><p>“No, wait, you can’t just- ”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan ends the call and pulls into the parking lot of a small restaurant on the side of the road. </p><p> </p><p>What do sick people even eat, anyways?</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>“Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo opens the door to his house with a flurry of blankets and ruffled-up hair.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s heart should <em> not </em> be thumping as fast as it is right know. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm. Can I come in? I’ve got gifts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo sniffles and when Jeonghan settles into the seat that Jisoo offers him at the dining table, he takes his first good look at Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo looks flushed because of the fever, and the skin around his eyes looks scrubbed raw. He’s got a thin blanket wrapped around his slightly-shivering shoulders, and the pajama top he’s wearing is far too large. It hangs off his shoulder, exposing a thin strip of skin. </p><p> </p><p>“Are your parents home? I don’t want to intrude.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, they don’t live here?”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that a statement or a question?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, statement.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh. Could’ve sworn you said you lived with them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I just meant I live on their property. But they live somewhere else.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s misleading.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“God. Nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm, okay. Anyways, can I help you with something?” </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan blinks. This guy just moves from point to point within a conversation like it’s a <em> game </em>. “Here. Food, medicine, and vitamins. To get better.” Jeonghan shoves the bag holding his goodies up to Jisoo’s chest, grunting at him to take it. Jisoo giggles a bit and leads the two of them inside the apartment, which is pretty spacious. Jeonghan thinks that it must be nice to have rich parents at the back of his head. “You stayed sick for a long time, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, actually. I’m not sick anymore. Just a bit of soreness.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan can hear that Jisoo’s voice is clear of any phlegm or roughness. </p><p> </p><p>“Then why did you miss this week of rehearsal? Your position is vital.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was scared, Jeonghan-ssi.” </p><p> </p><p>There’s no hesitation to answer. </p><p> </p><p>“Of?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of having to see you. I didn’t want to come back to you telling me to forget about it like you did that night. I didn’t want to hear that.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s pinpoint description of what Jeonghan had planned to do is kind of scary. </p><p> </p><p>“I told you that it was a mistake.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan remembers that much. After he had pulled away from Jisoo, the initial wave of utter pleasure had disappeared and turned into pure <em> dread </em>. He had shot up in his seat, picked up his cup, told Jisoo that this was a one-time thing that they should never talk about, and then stormed off back home.</p><p> </p><p>“Still scared.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not an excuse to skip a week.”</p><p> </p><p>“I kept crying when I thought about you.” Jisoo rubs his eyes rather sleepily and puts his chin on his fist, chair scraping the floor under him. Jeonghan takes a seat in the empty chair in front of Jisoo. Jisoo’s elbow keeps swaying back and forth on the weight of his own head like a pendulum. “I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone -”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s talking is cut short when his bottom lip starts trembling uncontrollably and Jeonghan can tell that he’s going to start crying again. </p><p> </p><p>God. He can’t hold a two minute conversation without Jisoo freaking out or crying or asking him strange questions - </p><p> </p><p>Jeez.</p><p> </p><p>“Jisoo-ssi, please don’t cry.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeah. </p><p> </p><p>That doesn’t help. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo starts sobbing with his eyes covered by his arm, shoulders violently shaking up and down. Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do at first. He just sits there, on the chair, still and unsure if he should comfort Jisoo or just wait this out. </p><p> </p><p>He’s scared that he’ll do something to Jisoo. </p><p> </p><p><em> Soft </em>. </p><p> </p><p><em> His lips were soft </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“J-Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo lets out a wail. </p><p> </p><p>“My ears hurt.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan gets up and quietly moves to stand in front of Jisoo. “You’re very troublesome, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo lets out another cry. “I’m s-sorry -”</p><p> </p><p>“Oy. I didn’t mean it like that. Up we go.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan leans down so he can pick Jisoo up from the chair. If he’s going to take care of Jisoo, they might as well be sitting comfortably on the couch. He decides that it’s okay to ignore the slew of alarm bells blaring in his head, telling him to <em> stop </em> , because he’s being <em> stupid </em> , he’s contradicting himself <em> again </em> - Jeonghan just ignores them, muting them, sliding the volume knob down until all he can hear is the voice in his mind telling him to make sure Jisoo’s okay. He sweeps up Jisoo’s body into his arms with his hands clasped under Jisoo’s bottom so he doesn’t fall. Jisoo lets out a pained whimper and wraps his legs around Jeonghan’s waist so tight that Jeonghan thinks his stomach is going to get crushed. </p><p> </p><p>It’s crazy-fucking-wierd how the thought of that doesn’t really upset Jeonghan all that much. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan lands on the couch with a small grunt, with his back pressed up against the cushions. Jisoo’s still busy crying into Jeonghan’s shoulder and it takes him a minute to calm himself down enough to straddle Jeonghan’s waist properly. </p><p> </p><p>“Can you breathe now?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo rubs at his eyes again. Jeonghan hates that it’s kind of cute. </p><p> </p><p><em> Hates it </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He looks like a sleepy kitten, blanket all messed up around them and pajama shirt riding down his shoulder even further. </p><p> </p><p>This is unfair. </p><p> </p><p>“My ears.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan nods. “Shh. Just settle in, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo grabs onto the front of Jeonghan’s shirt and drops his forehead onto Jeonghan’s. </p><p> </p><p>They’ve been in this position before. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t <em> dare </em> to move. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo nudges Jeonghan’s nose with his own, before leaning down to plant a kiss onto Jeonghan’s lips. </p><p> </p><p>It’s sloppy. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo still doesn’t know how to move his mouth against someone else’s, nudging insistently without any real sense of direction. Jeonghan pulls away, missing the subtle taste of citrus that had been on Jisoo’s breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey. I didn’t come here for this.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay.” Jisoo tries to kiss Jeonghan again. “Plans can change.”</p><p> </p><p>“God, you’re such a kid.” Jeonghan puts his palms over Jisoo’s ears and presses in. Almost immediately, Jisoo lets out a thin sigh of relief. Jeonghan’s noticed that Jisoo likes to squeeze Jeonghan’s wrist whenever this happens. He must like to hold onto something when his ears hurt, but if he takes care of it himself, he wouldn’t be able to. “Is this okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you.” Jisoo opens his eyes and he’s <em> so close </em>. “Can I kiss you, please?”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t give him a verbal reply. Instead, he just leans his head in close enough that Jisoo takes the hint to continue. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Soft.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It’s just.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Soft.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan can’t sleep, and it’s surprisingly not the fact that Jisoo’s curled up on his side, arms draped over Jeonghan’s torso. Jisoo breathes heavily, indicating that he’s pretty knocked out. Jeonghan can't do anything without jostling Jisoo, which he doesn’t want to do. Jeonghan just stares at the curve of Jisoo’s cheek and the way that his lips are parted with small, puffy breaths that fill the silence of the room rather pleasantly.  </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What’re you dreaming about? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What am I going to dream about? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan thinks about Seungcheol. </p><p> </p><p>Thinks about playing the cello. </p><p> </p><p>Thinks about his past, the one he’s tried to leave untouched for so long. </p><p> </p><p>He had started with the violin. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan wasn’t born with some kind of genius playing ability. He just worked hard. </p><p> </p><p>To the point that his calloused fingers would bleed over his strings and he would still play, still force the bow to move, still keep the body of the cello between his thighs, he <em> knew </em> his instrument better than the shape of any lover, anyone he’s ever touched, no one had compared to the firmness of its maple rib and the softwood belly of his cello, of <em> his cello </em> , the only thing in life that gave him <em> meaning </em> . He had not truly experienced the absolute <em> rush </em> that the cello could give him until he quit his violin. </p><p> </p><p>So maybe it worked out in the end. </p><p> </p><p>Sometimes, Jeonghan slips up and thinks it’s unfair how he can’t touch a violin without feeling like he should be repenting on his knees for a sin. </p><p> </p><p>He has no right to feel sad. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan had walked away from the violin. He had  made up his own mind, on his own accord.</p><p> </p><p>The cello for him had been a side hobby. A way to prove that he was musically inclined, when really, he <em> wasn’t </em> . So he could lie and make it look like this was what he was <em> created </em> to do. To play music. </p><p>The first time he joined an orchestra, an official one, right after university, he had done so under the violin. That orchestra was special. It was where Jeonghan had met  someone that he liked for the first time. That he liked <em> more </em> than a like. </p><p> </p><p>Seungcheol was strong. </p><p> </p><p>Could make his violin sing. </p><p> </p><p>Not as well as Jeonghan, though. </p><p> </p><p>Never as good as Jeonghan.</p><p> </p><p>The clear division in their skill sets started to become hard to ignore. </p><p>It had happened when the first violin position was being chosen. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan was the one who got interviewed. But he knew about how bad Seungcheol wanted it, it was the only thing Seungcheol talked about. The way his eyes lit up at the thought of being able to hold the first chair seat. The way he would shake Jeonghan’s shoulders whenever the conductor complimented him. The way he smiled, the way he <em> smiled </em> , god, it was so <em> beautiful </em> , the way he smiled. Jeonghan was foolish and selfish and was desperate to keep a friend, a <em> crush </em>, by his side. </p><p> </p><p>He had rejected the position, saying that he’d much rather play the cello, throwing the violin out altogether. It was a plausible excuse for handing the position over to Seungcheol, since Jeonghan could play his new instrument well enough to get away with it. The excuse had worked for years. </p><p> </p><p>And then Seungcheol found out that Jeonghan botched the interview on purpose. </p><p> </p><p>Who wouldn’t be furious?</p><p> </p><p>Seungcheol hadn’t won that seat because he was an amazing violinist deemed worthy by the conductor himself. </p><p> </p><p>He was chosen because Jeonghan had passed up the opportunity.</p><p> </p><p>Because he was second best. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan tries to force himself to fall asleep but the memory lingers around in his head. Images of Seungcheol screaming and then Jeonghan screaming back, all of those thoughts flash through his mind and it feels like Seungcheol is lying there besides him, asking and asking and asking. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did you do it? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> You know I would have been happy for you. I would have celebrated with you.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did you do that? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why did you do that? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo likes that word. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the word Jisoo likes. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan turns around and the phantom image of Seungcheol starts to shift.</p><p> </p><p><em> Why? </em> </p><p> </p><p>Seungcheol’s lying there, arms outstretched and begging Jeonghan. </p><p><em> Why </em>?</p><p> </p><p>Seungcheol starts to melt away into thin wisps of clouds. </p><p> </p><p><em> Why </em>?</p><p> </p><p>How’s Jeonghan supposed to now? </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s face replaces Seungcheol. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan sucks in a rough breath and quickly turns over on his back so he can stare straight up at the ceiling. </p><p> </p><p>The real Jisoo shifts in his sleep, letting out a small breath across Jeonghan’s chest before tightening his hug. Jeonghan just pats Jisoo’s head in a slow rhythm, too tired to push him off. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It hits Jeonghan the next morning. </p><p> </p><p>Why it bothers him so much that Jisoo wants to get close to him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s terrified of making Jisoo cry like that, cry like last night, with the tear-stained cheeks and trembling hands and the ringing ears that he can’t take care of himself.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t want Jisoo to do that. </p><p> </p><p>He’s scared. </p><p> </p><p>That once he holds onto Jisoo, he won’t let go if Jisoo ever decides to leave. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t know why. </p><p> </p><p>Why Jisoo’s special. </p><p> </p><p>Why Jisoo’s different. </p><p> </p><p>How’s he supposed to know?</p><p> </p><p>There’s a strange sense of guilt that floods him for that. </p><p> </p><p>He shouldn’t touch Jisoo. Can’t touch him, can’t ruin him, can’t hurt him. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan awakens first, so he decides that getting up to brush his teeth and wash his face is the first step to calming down. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan shuts the bathroom door bsides him and cleans the sleep out of his system. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p><em> Fuck </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s sure that he doesn’t like Jisoo in a romantic way, but at the same time, he doesn’t really want to be separated from him either. He pats his face with a towel when he pictures someone smiling with Jisoo in their arms. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p><em> Fuck </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan would probably cry.</p><p> </p><p>When Jeonghan gets back to the bed, Jisoo’s already awake and pulling out a change of clothes. </p><p> </p><p>“Good morning, Jeonghan-ssi.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s voice is crackly with exhaustion. </p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm.” A noncommittal mumble leaves his mouth and Jeonghan crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe. “When did you get cleaned up?”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s a bathroom in this room.”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo points to the end of the room and sure enough, there’s a bathroom connected to the wall. Jeonghan must have missed it yesterday. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.” Jisoo sets his clothes on the bed. “Did you sleep comfortably?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Your mattress is awfully soft. Felt like a cloud.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that’s good to hear. Um, I’m going to change now, so if you could just wait downstairs for me- ”</p><p> </p><p>“You know, I think I’ve decided on what I want to eat.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s great, I’ll be down in a minute to make it- ”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan laughs and walks into the room, closing the door behind him. Jisoo tilts his head in confusion. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan pushes Jisoo down onto the bed and looms over him, tipping Jisoo’s head back by hooking a finger under his chin to force Jisoo to look up. </p><p> </p><p>“Jisoo.”</p><p> </p><p>“Informal. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you know what I’m about to do?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Yes.” His eyes are wide without a single <em> hint </em> of fear, or anxiety, or whatever else it is that Jeonghan’s feeling, that Jeonghan’s sure is swimming in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>He’s honest to a fault. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan finds that disgustingly adorable. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan drops himself over Jisoo’s body and presses a small kiss into Jisoo’s mouth. He tastes like mint. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you scared? I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”</p><p> </p><p>“No. I want this.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sound confident. Have you done this before?”</p><p> </p><p>“No. You’re my first.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. I’ll just have to be good, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jisoo, move your legs.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like this?”</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo spreads open his thighs slowly, hands shaking as he pushes the blanket off to the side. Jeonghan practically drools at the sight of that. It's like his heart is stopping and also beating too fast and he's just <em>wired</em> and ready to pounce on something, on Jisoo like he's prey. </p><p> </p><p>"You should illegal."</p><p> </p><p>"But is it good?"</p><p> </p><p>“My God, Jisoo,  you don't just ask that.”</p><p> </p><p>"But is it?"</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan throws his head back and groans when Jisoo pulls his legs apart further. </p><p> </p><p>"Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo closes his eyes and wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s chest lies flush against Jeonghan’s, and Jeonghan swears that he can feel their heartbeats thump together under the shirts they’re wearing. </p><p> </p><p><em> Fuck </em>. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>This is too domestic. </p><p> </p><p>They’ve known each other for like, three weeks and Jeonghan’s already kissed him, had sex with him, and ate breakfast together right after, what’s next, get a dog together?</p><p> </p><p>(Jeonghan bites the inside of his cheek when his heart skips a beat at the thought of owning a pet with Jisoo. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with him?)</p><p> </p><p>It’s too fast. </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan’s heart is beating too fast for something that’s been hurting for too long. </p><p> </p><p>Jisoo quietly sips his tea and sits at a strange angle on the couch. Jeonghan sits across from him, stretching his legs out on the loveseat that he’s on. </p><p> </p><p>“How do you feel?” Jeonghan asks, trying to gage how Jisoo feels about this whole thing. </p><p> </p><p>“I think I like you a lot more now.” Jisoo smiles and it’s like his expression is blooming into one of pure happiness and Jeonghan looks down before he feels his stomach do another somersault. </p><p> </p><p>“Would your feelings be hurt if I said I don’t want this to be serious?”</p><p> </p><p>That’s not what Jeonghan meant. </p><p> </p><p>It came out wrong. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> C’mon, Jeonghan, fuck! Fix it! You don’t meant that, you don’t meant that, you don’t mean that - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo puts his cup down on the coffee table in between them and Jeonghan freezes. It takes a moment of thinking before Jisoo can answer. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. But I knew that you didn’t feel the same for me as I do for you when I agreed to do that. Which is strange. I promised myself that I wouldn’t cling to you but now I want to do it more than ever.” </p><p> </p><p>“You knew?”</p><p> </p><p>“Your eyes didn’t look like mine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like what?”</p><p> </p><p>“Happy? I think? Safe. Comfortable. Stuff like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you more than I did before. Can’t we just start somewhere slow?”</p><p> </p><p>“What would <em> somewhere slow </em> mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just, getting to know each other first. No touching. No relationship stuff. Just friends. I mean, it wouldn’t be guaranteed to lead to a relationship, but I don’t know -”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I can do that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. It would hurt my feelings a lot to be constantly aware that you have no feelings for me, or at least a very small amount. Or that this is just an experiment for you. I would not like being a test for your emotions. It really isn’t hard to tell if you like someone, Jeonghan-ssi. If you need to think about it this much, it’s clear that it’s not happening.”</p><p> </p><p>“I never said <em> that </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was implied.”</p><p> </p><p>“Jisoo- ”</p><p> </p><p>“What I mean, is that I like you. But you don’t like me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I like you, too.”</p><p>“No, you don’t. You don’t even get what I- ” Jisoo stops his sentence short and fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “Um, nevermind.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan wonders why he’s so desperate to keep Jisoo by his side. </p><p> </p><p>He remembers what Wonwoo said the other day. </p><p> </p><p>Someone else could snatch him up. </p><p> </p><p>Ugh. Jeonghan’s stomach turns into a churning storm of jealousy. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m scared to hurt you, Jisoo. I don’t want us to do anything more than be friends at first because I’m irrational. And I hurt people close to me. And -”</p><p> </p><p>“It seems that you like to make simple things rather complicated. It’s okay that you got hurt, or hurt someone else. You’re at least aware of the fact that something went wrong. People are meant to change. I’m fully aware that you’re a rash person. That’s fine. I wouldn’t like you if I didn’t kind of enjoy that part of you. But please stop acting as if it’s a reason. The past can help shape us, Jeonghan-ssi. But it’s something you learn and move on from.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan is cheap. </p><p> </p><p>He still can’t admit what he wants. </p><p> </p><p>Three weeks. That’s all it took for Jisoo to drive a stake into Jeonghan’s heart like that, to claim a part of him that no one else, probably not even Seungcheol, had been able to get his hands on. </p><p> </p><p>“Jeonghan-ssi?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Could I please request something?”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything.”</p><p> </p><p>“If my ears hurt, will you please help me? Just that much.”</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan wishes he were alone right now so he could cry. </p><p> </p><p>What would he cry over? </p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan doesn’t know. But Jisoo looks so calm right now after being shut down by Jeonghan’s incomprehensible decision. After <em> accepting </em> Jeonghan’s delusional rambling.</p><p> </p><p>Jisoo’s smiling so nicely right now, lips crinkling at the corners, stretched into a perfect grin. His eyes are glassy, though, clearly trying to pass Jeonghan’s words off as nothing significant.</p><p> </p><p>Jeonghan wants to cry. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the first time Jisoo’s holding back from saying what he wants to. <em> Jeonghan </em> made him do that. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Jisoo. Of course.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you guys enjoyed this chapter ! oof we're moving along and the slight angst is there !! can't write something and not have any spice in it, ya know?? but i promise it gets resolved quick lol. also, turns out i can't count bc i thought i wrote five chapters but its six! damn my brain is getting fried. </p><p>there's nothing going on in my life that's particularly making me sad except for the fact that my classes are ending soon. i just handed in my last assingment due and lemme just say that the feeling of clicking submit for the last time this year made me sad idek why TT. </p><p>hope you guys are doing fine and dandy! love you all and please stay inside and safe !!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. in which there is the first break</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>go crazy go stupid ! jk this chapter is sad-ish. hmmm. hope you enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A lot of time passes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Days melt into weeks, melt into a month and a half and rehearsals just keep going like there’s no end in sight. Every passing second feels like Jeonghan’s life is getting cut shorter while also being stretched out for eternity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo doesn’t talk to Jeonghan anymore. Except to say hello, goodbye, please make sure to go over this part with your section, your water bottle is over here, Jungwoo’s asking for help because his string snapped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To anyone else, it looks like professional politeness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan misses the way Jisoo talks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Straightforward, no hidden meanings, stating exactly what he means, wants, needs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s playing is stagnant, it’s frozen, it doesn’t get better, doesn’t get worse, doesn’t do anything but piss himself off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s doing this to prove that he grew, even in recuperation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems like wasted effort on his part. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> reason Jeonghan plays the cello as obsessively as he does. When he can’t form the words to say something, when he can’t even begin to comprehend what he feels, when he has nowhere left to turn, it’s there for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t even do that even more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Every time Jeonghan draws his bows against the strings, tugs it over the ones he wants to strike, pushes his fingertips into them, shifting his legs to try and distribute the weight of the instrument around his thighs so they don’t strain as much, quickly stretches his fingers out whenever there’s a rest in the measure before he curls them again - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuine</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s repetitive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Muscle memory? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no drive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No </span>
  <em>
    <span>passion</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sighs when the conductor finishes up the section and calls for a half-hour break. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels a thought creep into his head again, the one he’s been trying to ignore for so long but is getting nearly impossible to do now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is the last concert</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s eyes sweep the page, skittering over the inky notes like a car spinning out of control. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The last stage</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s fingers dance frantically around the strings, landing and then jumping and then pushing and then doing it all again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The last time. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s throat closes up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan! It’s been too long, you meanie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan smiles when he sees Soonyoung, an endless ball of energy who also happens to be one of the orchestra’s percussionists, bounding over to him. Their sections don’t practice together, so it’s been hard to actually catch sight of the drummer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan says, leaning his forearms on the top of the chair in front of him. “You’re right. It’s been too long. How’s Chan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s doing great, thanks for asking! He’ll be fifteen this year, you know. He’s taken quite a liking to soccer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh, I thought he’d definitely go for baseball.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he outgrew that phase when -” Soonyoung stops talking all of a sudden, and Jeonghan stands up straight to see who Soonyoung’s looking at. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Seokmin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course. “- when you, when he was, uh, you -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soonyoung stops his babbling when Seokmin starts heading over to them, oboe in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan leans into Soonyoung and whispers, “I know you want to get into his pants, but still. Close your mouth, at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan chuckles softly when Soonyoung stutters over his words and gives up when Seokmin reaches them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Jeonghan. I almost forgot what you look like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It hasn’t been that long!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure.” Seokmin gives Jeonghan his signature wide smile, where his eyes disappear into two crescents and his nose bridge scrunches up nicely. Soonyoung chokes a bit. Jeonghan bites back a snort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So. What’s up with you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing much. But this piece isn’t as bad as I thought...”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the conversation continues to flow like water (with Soonyoung’s occasional flustered giggling or squeaking interrupting like a rock being tossed across an undisturbed lake) and Jeonghan could swear that he’s paying attention, but he’s only focused on one thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo-ssi!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can’t see who’s called him but he watches Jisoo’s reaction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or  lack thereof. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo-ssi, Jisoo-ssi!” The person comes into sight. It’s another percussionist. Jeonghan wonders what business the guy has, calling out a string player. “Jisoo-ssi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo doesn’t react at all, focused on the string pegs of his instrument. He’s twisting and adjusting them, plucking a couple of the strings to check their tautness. Jeonghan’s about to write it off as Jisoo not being able to hear due to the background chatter of the other members spread around the room, but when the guy (Minghao, was it?) reaches Jisoo and calls out to him again, </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> to no response, Jeonghan feels like he should keep watching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not until the guy touches Jisoo’s shoulder that the violinist looks up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo really didn’t hear him at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But if Jeonghan’s all the way across the room and could make out the words of the percussionist as if he were standing in front of him, why couldn’t Jisoo? Even with bad ears - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I had an accident when I was a kid. So I developed hearing loss, and it’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan shakes off the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. It’s only been about a month since the whole sleepover-morning debacle and even then, Jisoo didn’t seem to struggle with hearing anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan forces himself to snap out his little trance and returns his brain back to the conversation between Soonyoun and Seokmin, listening without really understanding what they’re going on about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been getting worse. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan. Here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan closes his cello case first, before he sits back on his ankles in a slightly painful squat and looks up. Wonwoo holds out a water bottle, which Jeonghan takes gratefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look awful, Jeonghan. I mean that in the worst way possible. What happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo lets himself drop to the floor and mimics Jeonghan’s sitting position. They both wince when practically half the bones in Wonwoo’s body crackle like a breaking rice cookie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gee, I appreciate that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, you haven’t looked this bad since you hurt your hand. And that’s saying something. What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo’s not the type of person to care. The fact that </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels like Jeonghan needs help is saying something. Jeonghan lets out a quiet sigh that slides out between his teeth and opens the water bottle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do with myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it Jisoo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know him. I’ve had like, four conversations with him. I don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, and yet, here I am, making myself miserable again. I don’t deserve to ask him for a chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. You and your self-destruction. I swear, you just love to be dramatic, Jeonghan. You need to forget about what you did to Seungcheol. It’s not like you did it to spite anyone. You didn’t do an inherently </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing, just, something that caused a negative reaction. Don’t use that as an excuse to be closed off, please. I get that you like to play this role of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sad, tortured musician who broods at the thought of love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but you need to realize that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that s-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that simple, Jeonghan! God, you’re like, halfway through your </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirties</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you still can’t understand how easy it is to read your own emotions! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that you’re being irrational. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you have feelings for Jisoo, even if you don’t know how far they stretch. Just, talk to the poor guy. Every time he looks at you, his eyes start to droop like someone just told him that he has to kill his dog or something. Jeez.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan fiddles around with the water bottle, now half-empty, to try and not take Wonwoo seriously. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate when you’re right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Staying late after rehearsal and waiting for Jisoo to be the only one left seems to be a habit that Jeonghan’s starting to develop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to wait until the last of the stragglers are gone, but Jisoo’s still sitting at his spot, closing his eyes and fingering the notes silently on the strings. He’s not playing, but the concentration is the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo?” Jeonghan calls out, before he gets too nervous and chickens out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jesus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is he really an adult?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no reply from Jisoo. There’s not even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>twitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> of muscle. Jeonghan frowns. He’s across the room, but his voice had bounced off the walls and projected louder than he meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo,” Jeonghan tries again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s still closing his eyes with his fingers flying across the strings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sighs and walks up to him, with loud steps that are purposely stronger than how he would normally walk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jeonghan breathes. His name leaves like a small, desperate beg that trembles as he says it. Jeonghan places his hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, which finally jerks Jisoo out of his little daze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you with something?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks up at Jeonghan, eyes all calm and stretched wide. His expression is blank and not the least bit shaken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t asked me to help you.” Jeonghan clears his throat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. I’m not a fifteen year old teenager who’s trying to confess in a school courtyard. C’mon, Jeonghan, just say it!</span>
  </em>
  <span> “With your ears?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan mentally punches himself into a bloody pulp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They didn’t hurt.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you doing okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo drops his face and looks down at the floor. Jeonghan can tell he’s a shit liar before he even speaks. “Very much so, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to say something to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks back up again. His cheeks are tinted with the slightest flush of pink, dusting over the arc of his nose and melting into his creamy skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan studies Jisoo’s face for the first time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Really</span>
  </em>
  <span> looks at it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s all delicate curves and soft edges, with a defined jawline to cup his small face. Large eyes with deep folds, lips that part a bit and they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> pink and red and smooth and Jeonghan remembers when he kissed Jisoo before, how Jisoo would alway stutter around with his mouth, not knowing what to do, he had let Jeonghan take the lead and their teeth would clash and click together and when Jeonghan slipped his tongue in Jisoo’s jaw had gone a bit slack and he had let out whines without holding back, he’d make all of these little mewling noises like he couldn’t ask for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> fast enough, Jisoo was </span>
  <em>
    <span>clumsy</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it came to kissing he was sloppy and awkward and the way he’d grip Jeonghan’s shirt to tell him wordlessly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>take control</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan hates it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he can’t bring himself to expose his deepest desire to Jisoo: himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will it be about us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like me the way I like you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan pauses to answer, trying to create a sentence that won’t end with Jisoo getting upset with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right now, after two months of knowing this guy, after having kissed him just enough times that he can still count the amount with his ten fingers, after having slept with him once, after talking to him about something serious </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely zero times</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his part, after letting Jisoo spill his life story in detail under the comfort of his silken sheets, after helping him deal with the pain in his ears exactly three times - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan still can’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s going to run away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s going to leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like Seungcheol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s going to see that Jeonghan is incapable of understanding his own heart and he’s going to leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then I would rather not talk to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Jisoo, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you very much, Jeonghan-ssi, but I feel as if I’m getting thrown around against my will whenever I think about you. Please give me until the end of the concert. I will get rid of my unreturned feelings for you by then, and after, I will listen to what you have to say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That feels kind of bad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s going to forget his feelings? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All Jeonghan needs is </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to be able to piece together what he really wants to say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m very tired, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s a lie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo just lied for the first time to Jeonghan, while looking at him straight in the eyes with shaking hands and unstable breaths. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s a lie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I, uh-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo winces and grabs his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan reaches out to help him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo avoids Jeonghan’s touch like it’s going to burn him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If someone were to ask Jeonghan, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what does falling in love feel like</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jeonghan would be forced to stay honest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan would have to shrug his shoulders and look introspective. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d have to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then when that someone were to leave Jeonghan by himself again, he would have to close his eyes and hang his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could probably recite what he’s heard in movies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Love is supposed to make your knees weak, supposed to make your hands shake, supposed to make your cheeks flush, supposed to make you heart beat wildly like a beast, supposed to steal your breath away like a thief of the night, supposed to take away your inhibitions like riding the wind, supposed to sound like the perfect note - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jeonghan doesn’t think it’s like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Love doesn’t feel good like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It guts you, it makes you beg for approval, it kills any reason you have left inside of you, it stings like a sharp slap, it grates your ears like an out-of-tune instrument, it doesn’t feel good at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had looked at Seungcheol once the way Jisoo looks at him now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t love. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was just a temporary lapse in judgement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s wrist sings with pain and pleads for a break but Jeonghan cannot stop in that moment, cannot stop forcing himself to play, pretending like the soft glow of lamp light that brightens up his room is the same as the sweat-inducing stage lights that he’s so used to, pretending like the floor his feet are on are the same as the linoleum-and-wax covered wooden planks that he’s so used to, pretending like the worn out pajama set he’s dressed in is the same as the suit that he’s so used to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jeonghan thinks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the only love he needs. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> person Jeonghan could </span>
  <em>
    <span>possibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> run into during the lunch break, it just </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be Hansol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hansol runs up to him in the middle of the street, and Jeonghan moves to the side so he doesn’t stop the flow of people walking behind him. There’s actually not that many people, because it’s a path through the park and most people aren’t out taking strolls in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hansol laughs. “God. Can’t you greet me with a smile? It’s been awhile, huh? Heard you went back to the orchestra. Good to hear it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan narrows his eyes and clutches the bag in his hand. He just wants to eat his lunch in peace </span>
  <em>
    <span>goddammit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Yeah. I’m kind of busy, though, so -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hansol giggles again and sweeps his cardigan around him like a cape. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the middle of November and near forty degrees, and he’s wearing nothing but a thin shirt underneath the cardigan. Jeonghan frowns. Hansol has a habit of forgetting to dress himself. Or just, take care of himself like an adult in general. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that he can really judge. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aw, don’t be like that, hyung!” Hansol brings up his hands to cross over his chest and he shivers. “Jeez, it’s cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t call me that. And why’re you even out here in the first place?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Need to grab a coffee for me and Seungkwan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re still with him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Don’t make me look like a bad guy, hyung! I know I fucked up in the past, but c’mon. Cut me some slack. I was stupid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t even begin to describe you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t really care that Hansol’s moved on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hansol was Jeonghan’s boyfriend for two years, when he interned at the company that employed the orchestra itself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They didn’t love each other, but it was nice to at least be able to act it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hansol loved art the way Jeonghan loved the cello. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were obsessive over their respective jobs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that Jeonghan was still in love with Seungcheol.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had told Hansol what he did to Seungcheol, who couldn’t keep his stupid little mouth shut. Hansol had been the one to tell Seungcheol, and after that, Jeonghan swiftly broke up with him, Seungcheol had cut off contact, and Hansol quickly recovered by </span>
  <span>sucking the very life out of </span>
  <span> dating Seungkwan, a student he met in university. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s jealous sometimes, because Hansol seems like he managed to find happiness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not fair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should be just as easy for Jeonghan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some part of Jeonghan’s deep conscious suspects that Hansol’s betrayal had led to Jeonghan creating insurmountable walls so no one could ever do it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ha, ha. Very funny. Anyways, I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you.” Hansol leans in for a hug and Jeonghan’s not fast enough to ward it off. He makes various noises of indignation as Hansol giggles and presses his ice cold cheek against Jeonghan’s own. “Really. I hope you get better, Jeonghan. I’m sorry we couldn’t help each other. But I hope you forgive me. I never meant to hurt you, hyung, you know that. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan stands there, letting Hansol mumble out more apologies, with his lanky body pressed up into Jeonghan’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hansol. Stop apologizing. That makes it seem like I still care.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay if you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I want to see you ever again, Hansol.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hansol kisses Jeonghan’s cheek softly and then runs off in the opposite direction he came from. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan whips around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo? What’re you doing here? And -” Jeonghan sees that Jisoo’s wearing nothing but his thick sweater, a jacket nowhere to be seen. “- why aren’t you wearing anything warm? You must be-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair, Jeonghan-ssi!” Jisoo screams, fists clenched at his sides and chest rising up and down erratically. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan nearly drops his lunch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo just </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t an exclamation, or a loud cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo had just </span>
  <em>
    <span>screamed </span>
  </em>
  <span>that, shrill, at the top of his lungs, making him go red in the face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you t-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you! I like you, I like you, I like you! Why does he get to do that? Why’d you let him hug you and kiss you and why did you let him do that! Does he like you to? I like you! If it’s okay with him, why can’t you do it with me? Why can’t you do that to me? Why am </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> the different one? If he likes you, I like you more. You can just use me, Jeonghan-ssi, I can share, I won’t tie you down, you can be with whoever you want and so why do yo-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s panicked shrieking has slowly started to go higher and higher in pitch until his voice breaks and he just starts wailing uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face like two waterfalls, mouth contorted up into an ugly grimace while he sobs. Jisoo lets out a pained whine and covers his ears with his hands, pressing into his head and sinking down to his knees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan slides off his jacket and quickly moves to Jisoo. He’s dropped the bag next to him before settling his coat on top of Jisoo’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gravel path is rough against his knees. Jisoo sits fully on the ground, crying and crying and crying and </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Jeonghan is on his knees, wrapping the jacket around Jisoo’s shoulders while he lets out heaving cries and he moves Jisoo’s hands off his ears so he can replace them with his own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re cold, Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“P-please g-ge-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo can’t finish his sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeongan presses his palms into Jisoo’s eardrums as hard as he can, until Jisoo starts breathing more regularly. His thin body is still shaking like a lone leaf on a branch in the middle of winter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo. I’m not involved with the guy you just saw.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No response. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Jeonghan continues. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m just scared of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo lets out another ear-splitting wail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean it like that, Jisoo, oh, look at me, c’mon, open your eyes up.” Jeonghan clicks his tongue softly and uses his thumbs to wipe away the tears still slipping off his face. It physically </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see Jisoo like this. “I’m scared of you because you make me feel like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. I’m scared of you because I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirty-five</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I don’t know what it’s like to want someone this much, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone this bad. I’m scared of you because I’ve only known you for two months and I’m already losing my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span> of you, Jisoo, because I can’t help but think I’ll hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-but -” Jisoo sniffles and Jeonghan watches as Jisoo’s blink almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleepily</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a worn out kitten, and it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cute</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Jeonghan might combust right in his spot. “- then why? W-won’t y-you -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo sucks in a shaky, shallow breath that comes out in a puff of frosty air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you, Jisoo.” Jeonghan pulls Jisoo into a hug, slowly moving his hands off of Jisoo’s ears and moving them down to tug Jisoo’s waist closer to him. He falls from his squat and slides his knees open so Jisoo has a space to lean into him. “Fuck. I’m so scared. I don’t know what to do with you, Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you like me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know why I like you. Y-you, you helped me. And you’re kind. And you make yourself seem rough but I like you because you aren’t. And you were my first kiss and it was really good. And that time we did it was really good. I felt like I was yours. And then you said I wasn’t. So why now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan tightens his hug on Jisoo as much as he can. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re so innocent to the point where you can’t even tell that you are.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan places a kiss on the top of Jisoo’s head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You say whatever you want without holding back. You’re somehow incredibly calculative without losing touch with your emotions.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan pecks Jisoo’s right cheek. Jisoo blinks slowly, lashes clumping together with stray tears. Jeonghan rubs his thumb against Jisoo’s cheekbone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You like what you like and you don’t like what you don’t like.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan kisses Jisoo’s left cheek this time, smiling into his icy skin when Jisoo shudders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re just -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan kisses Jisoo’s lips this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re so cold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>But Jeonghan just sinks into them like he was </span><em><span>created</span></em><span> to do this, to do nothing but kiss Jisoo like this, hard and soft and slow and sweet and </span><em><span>absolutely</span></em> <em><span>delicious</span></em><span>. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they pull away just because they both need oxygen, Jisoo looks up at Jeonghan. “You can’t leave me anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never,” Jeonghan agrees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not even if you don’t like me anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s impossible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m very childish.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So am I. Do you know another thirty-five year old man who acts like this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The fact that you’re not answering </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> is kind of concerning me, Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want another kiss.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan leans into place another chaste kiss on Jisoo’s lips when he gasps and holds up his hand over his mouth, preventing Jeonghan from moving in closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You, asked for a kiss?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s body goes slack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop whispering, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not? Does it sound like I am?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your joke isn’t f-funny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, what’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo falls back on his but and shoves Jeonghan off of him before scrambling backwards. Jeonghan can’t seem to move, confused more than anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s rude!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisoo retches like he’s about to vomit, one hand covering his mouth and the other placed on the ground in front of him for balance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you talking about, Jisoo, you were fine just -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop it!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There it is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The first break. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeonghan’s already messed up somehow. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Already?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like - </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like an overplayed string. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The first snap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just like that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>you guys before i say anything else i just have to say - </p><p>just realized that archive of our own is called ao3 bc there's three o's "of" "our" "own" now, you might be saying, authormin that's the most obvious fucking thing on earth are you kidding me and to THAT i have to say, unfortunately not. my little pea sized noggin just realized this TODAY as i was logging in. crazy crazy stuff. </p><p>BESIDES that, i guess i dont really have much to say besides, um, yeah a couple of people noticed that i switched things UP a bit in the tags deparment and now im making this a sad fic hehhHEHEHHEhehehe. im gonna try to make myself cry. idk. that's the goal. so. </p><p> </p><p>anyways enjoy yourselves and plz have a bomb ass day i hope you all drink smthg yummy, take a nice shower, feed urselves sum tasty food !!! mwah love you all and take care :)!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. pas de deux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>did i forget that yesterday was monday? yes. yes i did.</p><p>also this is probably very medically inaccurate i apologize loeifjowejlfkjs</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So,” the doctor says. He flips through a couple sheets of paper before talking again. “Your incident the other day wasn’t sudden deafness, Mr. Hong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan, who’s holding onto Jisoo’s hand, gives him a small squeeze when Jisoo starts to tremble. It stops as soon as it starts, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s answer is quite simple. Jeonghan’s sure he didn’t know it beforehand, but he answers confidently, like it was the only possible result he could get. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor gives him a weary sigh before rubbing his fingers on his temple. “Mr. Hong, I’ve been your doctor since childhood, you know. Yesterday’s bout of temporary deafness is not something to just dismiss this simply. Your hearing loss is decreasing rapidly, much faster than we anticipated.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shrugs nonchalantly, as if he’s just been told by a sorry mother that there’s no more ice cream left in the fridge because it had been given to his younger sibling instead. It kind of freaks Jeonghan out, to be honest, considering that Jisoo had a meltdown on the street the other day because he suddenly couldn’t hear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You said by my thirties. I’m almost there. It’s reasonable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say for sure whether you will lose your hearing in one go or if it will just continue to decline slowly. I’m sure you know better than anyone that hearing is not something we can predict.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay with it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, aren’t you -” Jeonghan stops and lets out a breath. “Never mind. Doctor, isn’t there anything we can do to slow down the progression?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor looks startled, like he forgot Jeonghan was sitting right there next to Jisoo. “Not with this kind of hearing loss, probably little to nothing. The fact that you’re sitting here tells me that you know Jisoo’s history?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Some. The basics,” Jeonghan replies. “Enough to kind of understand what’s going on, I guess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jeonghan thinks about it, all he knows is that Jisoo’s hearing and sight have been going bad since childhood and that his ears hurt a lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can tell him,” Jisoo says to the doctor. “I don’t care.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor nods carefully, before turning to Jeonghan with clasped hands. “People, as they age, obviously risk hearing and vision loss. However, those things can be slowed down or even prevented in most cases. However, Jisoo-ssi was </span>
  <em>
    <span>born</span>
  </em>
  <span> with these issues, which means that we can’t just treat it like an illness that comes with age. No surgery can be done to directly fix the sensory hair cells themselves, which is why hearing loss usually ends in deafness. In Jisoo-ssi’s case, his weak composition already gives him a disadvantage and these sensory cells are dying faster than we thought they would.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My eyes aren’t that bad, though. They just kind of hit their lowest point but they haven’t been deteriorating since,” Jisoo butts in, eyes still downcast and glued to the floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. For now, it’s the deafness that presents itself as the main issue. Jisoo-ssi, I would suggest coming to terms with full deafness by the end of this year.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan bites his cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s only a month away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can get cochlear implants, though, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It would have to be completely up to you, Jisoo-ssi. You’d be the perfect type of person to get it, because you wouldn’t be able to use hearing aids. But again, your immune system and body are weak. The slightest infection could blow up and wreak havoc. Though the chances of that happening are very low, it’s best to take time and research everything about it before making your decision. I’ll let the nurses on your way out to give you a pamphlet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, why </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> you use hearing aids right now?” Jeonghan asks, realizing that even though Jisoo hasn’t been able to hear well for a while now, he’s never seen him with hearing aids. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo blinks at Jeonghan. “They’re annoying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan blinks right back. “Huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Seriously the bluntness never gets old.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor laughs. “You know, when Jisoo was young, we tried to fit him for hearing aids. He tore them right off and cried until his parents said he didn’t have to wear them. We thought it was because he didn’t want to be different from the other kids, but turns out, he just didn’t like the feeling of them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can’t help but smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That seems just like him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo scowls. “If that’s all, I’d like to go. We’re missing rehearsal time for this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor’s joking expression completely does a 180 and his smile falls into a frown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re still in the orchestra?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to avoid loud noises as much as possible right now, Jisoo-ssi. You need to quit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you. I’d very much rather go deaf faster than to not see this performance happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo-ssi, that’s irrational.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m being perfectly normal. I don’t want to give this part of my life up just because of my ears. If I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> go deaf faster, it’s my problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo-ssi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Doctor Lee. I’ll be back in a month for my checkup.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can’t help but fidget in his seat, which isn’t the best thing to do when driving down a highway at an ungodly speed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, how are you so, I don’t know,” Jeonghan wracks his brain for the right word. “Okay with it? I guess? Casual?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>None of the words sound right, but Jisoo doesn’t seem to mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was born like this, Jeonghan-ssi. I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything about it. No use in fighting it, or crying about it, when none of that will help me. I’ve just decided to be glad that at least I’ve been able to hear for as long as I have, and that I’m doing what makes me happy. I know it sounds stupid but I’ve honestly made peace with not hearing. I don’t mind it. I’m sure people with hearing loss or deafness would think of me as ridiculous, but I don’t care. Perhaps it’s because I grew up away from other children, but I’ve never been bullied. Even when I was an adult, I was far too occupied with violin to care about what people said about me. Adults never teased me for it and in university, I wasn’t close enough with anyone that it presented itself as an issue.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan lets that sink in before he responds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I have no place or right to say this, but I think you should quit the orchestra.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t. Violin, to me, is the only control I have. I can’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I understand. I won’t push.” Jeonghan gets it. He really does, but he’s torn. Half of him </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d do the same thing if he were in Jisoo’s position, but the other half that likes Jisoo doesn’t want to see his hearing loss progress even faster. ”Did you look through the implant pamphlet at all?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to get it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, are the risks high?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s just my own reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I allowed to know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo smiles pleasantly and leans his head against the window. “I want to hear you say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> to me. I want those to be the last words I hear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan lets out a laugh. “You’re very sure that I’m going to love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shrugs with a grin. “I hope you. If not, I guess I’ll just have to find someone else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan nearly slams the brakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Jisoo being with someone else makes him </span>
  <em>
    <span>feral</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jeonghan growls, clutching the wheel so hard that his knuckles turn purple, and then pink, and then white. “Don’t even joke about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You started it, Jeonghan-ssi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo giggles when Jeonghan lets out an angry grunt and takes one hand off the wheel and grips Jisoo’s thigh with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo pokes and prods at Jeonghan’s hand like he’s trying to tickle it, before letting out a happy sigh and settling down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine now, you know that right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They end up skipping rehearsal when Jisoo starts to complain that he’s hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s never smashed the directions to the closest hotel into the car GPS so fast before in his life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The days until the concert start ticking down like an invisible bomb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan decides to ignore all of the other issues coming up in his life to try and get as much time in with Jisoo as he can, and he does so by taking the both of them out every weekend. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today’s choice location is a cafe date so Jeonghan can </span>
  <span>take pictures of Jisoo drinking something warm and then kiss him until they both melt </span>
  <span> fit in all of the couple-y stuff into the limited amount of time Jisoo has left with his hearing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looms over his heart like a dark cloud threatening to explode in a violent rumble of thunder but Jeonghan will respect Jisoo’s wish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No pushing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan gets to the cafe first, knowing that he’ll need a bit of time to scour the crowded streets for a parking spot. It’s eleven a.m., which means that all of the city’s late risers are out for brunch or coffee, something Jeonghan forgot to take into consideration. Fifteen minutes and three circles around the street later, and Jeonghan still can’t find a parking spot. His car speaker rings with a call, and Jeonghan sees Jisoo’s name flash across the screen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Jisoo?” Jeonghan asks, hands clutching the steering wheel while he sticks his tongue out in concentration so he can still sweep the streets with his eyes for an empty spot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Jeonghan-ssi? I don’t see you, but I’m waiting outside the cafe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah, I’m still looking for somewhere to park. Wait inside, Jisoo, it’s cold out. You could get sick!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sees someone peel their car out of a spot a little further up so he counts on Jisoo to hang up for the both of them. Jeonghan steps on the gas a bit more than he should, and shoves his car into gear to parallel park. Jeonghan’s pretty sure that if he were even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> more distracted, he’d have landed on the cars in front of and behind him. When the car stops with a squeal of its rubber tires, Jeonghan sighs and cuts the ignition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He climbs out of the car and realizes that the spot is right in front of the cafe, which is an added score. He digs a couple of quarters out of his pocket and feeds them into the slots of the parking meter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s standing outside of the cafe, eyes flickering around the street once in a while like he’s looking for something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan smiles to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo waited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo waves his hand a bit before wiggling his fingers into the frigid air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants to throw up - </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s how cute Jisoo is</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’s dressed in a black puffer jacket that goes down to his knees, an ivory knit beanie with earflaps that have pom poms dangling from the bottoms, and a bright red scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan whips his phone out and swipes up the lock screen to get to his camera and once he focuses the lense, he holds his thumb down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thank the lord for photo burst. Jeonghan’s going to have to spend some time later </span>
  <span>swiping through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>at least</span>
  </em>
  <span> seventy-eight photos of Jisoo’s expression shifting from a smile to one of surprise because of the sudden photos</span>
  <span>  moving them into a different album. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s cold out, Jisoo. And you need to watch your health.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo giggles like a bubbly child when Jeonghan hooks his finger under Jisoo’s chin and pulls him in for a short kiss. Jisoos shivers a bit, and Jeonghan decides it's time to go inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is it innapropirate to say that Jeonghan would like to strip Jisoo of every single article of clothing currently on his body just to fuck him on the cafe tables that line the inside of the coffee shop? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Incredibly so.</span>
  <span> Not at all, probably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo sighs warmly when he takes a sip of hot chocolate (he doesn’t like the bitterness that comes with the taste of coffee) and sinks into the booth seat as far as he can go, hands still wrapped tightly around his mug. Jeonghan just watches Jisoo move about and eat the bacon and egg toast plate they’ve ordered, hand pressed dreamily into his chin like he’s admiring some kind of mythical creature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo doesn’t seem to notice that Jeonghan’s not doing anything except watching him, but if he does, he says nothing about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi, are you not hungry? You’re hardly touching your food.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan smiles. “Eh. I can take it to-go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright? I have antacids in my bag if you need them, though. Or if you need, we could get laxatives at the pharmacy down the street?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan makes a face. “Let’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about my potential bowel movements, Jisoo. I promise I’m fine. I just like watching you eat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo flushes. “That’s weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi! Now I can’t focus.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s too bad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo crosses his arms and puffs out his cheeks and Jeonghan holds up his phone to take another photo burst of the moment, smiling when Jisoo sputters frantically and covers his face with his slender fingers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan just zooms in with his thumb and clicks away at the shot of Jisoo’s hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Creep!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan laughs before putting his phone down so he can take a sip of his coffee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that’s true.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They decide it’s too cold for a walk in the park, so Jeonghan declares that they’ll just have to spend the day in Jeonghan’s apartment, cuddling and lazing away in front of the TV. Jisoo has no objections, and clings onto Jeonghan’s shoulders until he breaks and says yes to the Disney movie marathon. (It’s not that he has anything against unplanned musical numbers and magical princesses, but if he could, he’d throw Olaf off a cliff and then every single dwarf to follow. There’s just something about the incessant crowing of girls singing about happiness and true love that makes Jeonghan want to break his skull open.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi! Your apartment's so much nicer than I thought it would be! Oh, it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>white</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and clean, and oh! The floors are so shiny! And the living room! Jeonghan-ssi, you could fit a million people in here it’s so big and wide and I could jump and still not hit anything!” Jisoo laughs with his head tilted backwards, arms flung in the air and feet sloppily sliding over one another so he can leap and waltz around the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan feels his heart start struggling to beat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is so fucking cute I might piss myself that can’t possibly be normal but when has Jisoo ever made me feel normal maybe I’ll just have to tie him in a room so I can keep him here forever but that’s illegal, Jeonghan, that’s illegal so shush and just enjoy this like a sane person, please.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t want a photo of this moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants it to be only for him, only for him inside of his head and no one else. Jisoo continues to twirl around the living room, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oo-hing</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the trophy case that’s next to the TV and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah-ing </span>
  </em>
  <span>and the magazines spread out into a perfect fan on the small shelf underneath the floating TV. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course. I was big back in my day, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan gets annoyed that he suddenly feels upset even at the slightest reminder that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>used to be someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks up from his current object of admiration and blinks. “You still are, though - oh! You have the whole Studio Ghibli collection? Jeonghan-ssi, I want to watch this instead, please, please!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I still am?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a joke. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, why don’t you just get yourself familiar with the apartment. Look around or something. I’m going to find where I stored all those extra blankets for the couch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really? You’d let me? Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m kind of hoping this isn’t the last time you’re planning on coming here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, can I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I just said.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo giggles. Jeonghan narrows his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, what is it, Jisoo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. I kind of figured you would be hiding like, a weird stuffed human corpse in a closed off room or something. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kidding! I just mean, thank you. I didn’t realize you’d trust me enough to just let me walk around wherever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan opens up his arms and waits for Jisoo to come flying into him for a hug. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> a lot clingier to each other than Jeonghan expected, to be honest. “I have nothing to hide.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, but still. I feel special.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan presses a kiss into Jisoo's forehead. “You are. Now shoo. I’ve got to find those blankets.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo flits off with a quick bow and Jeonghan doubles over, gripping the nearby edge of his dinner table to keep himself steady. His knees shake when he clutches his mouth with a hand, careful to not make a retching noise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know why he feels this way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything’s okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s fine now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is weird. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Being domestic doesn’t feel natural. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo shouldn’t like someone like Jeonghan. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This doesn’t feel right. Jeonghan doesn’t deserve this, Jeonghan deserves hell, he’s done nothing but destroy those around him. He’s burned everyone he’s touched and it’s not right because he hasn’t repented and he still feels nothing but regret and self-hatred for his hand, oh, he should have just cut the whole damn thing right off his fucking arm because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he doesn’t deserve Jisoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Jisoo just said he was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and those words had knocked the air right out of Jeonghan’s lungs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A shrill scream interrupts the wave of nausea that rolls through Jeonghan’s stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo?” Jeonghan’s mind immediately jumps to the worst conclusion - is it his ears? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-sso, come quick!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sprints out of the kitchen and down the hall to where he hears Jisoo calling for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, did you hurt yourself?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan hears Jisoo in his bedroom, so he makes a sharp turn and skids right into the wall at the corner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi, you have a TV inside of your </span>
  <em>
    <span>room</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sucks in a breath of air and clutches at his chest. “Jisoo. You’re cute and all, but I’m kicking you out the next time you scare me like that!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d I do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you, I don’t know, impaled yourself on something. Or something. Jeez.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo giggles and throws himself onto Jeonghan’s bed, hair flopping around when he lands on the soft mattress with a bounce. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we watch the movies in here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo laughs again and rolls around, bundling himself up with the comforter as he moves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he stops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Jeonghan crosses his arms and leans against the doorway, watching Jisoo slowly fold himself up into a human burrito. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, have you ever done stuff with other people here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not following.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever, you know,” Jisoo tightens the blanket around him and furrows his brows like he’s contemplating whether or not he should elaborate on his question. “Have you ever had sex here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why’re you asking that?” Jeonghan finds himself panicking, with Jisoo staring at him for an answer. “I mean? I won’t lie and say no? What’s with that question all of a sudden?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmph.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo pouts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, why’d you even think of that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re my first. Everything. But I’m not yours. I don’t know. Whatever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo lets out another annoyed noise and rolls himself around so he’s face-down against the mattress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even his </span>
  <em>
    <span>sulking </span>
  </em>
  <span>is cute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo still doesn’t flip himself around and Jeonghan lets out a small laugh. He walks over to the bed and perches himself at the edge of the mattress, watching the Jisoo-burrito on his bed sway under the dip with Jeonghan’s added weight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo huffs and turns his head to the side, just enough for him to look at Jeonghan, still in pout-mode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo. This is irrational. You’ve been a lot of my firsts too, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Seriously, Jisoo, I’ve never liked anyone like this before. Or wanted someone this bad. All of these feelings are new for me too, so don’t make yourself feel bad with useless things like other people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo turns his head into the mattress again and his flop of dark brown hair disappears under Jeonghan’s white sheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God. You’re cute when you mope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan lets himself fall onto the bed besides Jisoo and pulls the human wrap into his side, tightening his hug around Jisoo’s waist. Jisoo doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t move to get closer, either. Jeonghan has to dig around for a second before he can find Jisoo’s head under the mess of fabric, but once he does, he takes hold of Jisoo’s chin with his hand before he can try to fidget his way out of Jeonghan’s grip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop staring,” Jisoo glares, but it’s weak at best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. You’re pretty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ew.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like you so much, Jisoo.” Jeonghan presses a kiss into the crown of Jisoo’s head and the smell of strawberry shampoo fills up his nose like pure bliss. “So much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you like me, Jisoo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo finally cracks a smile and burrows himself into the space Jeonghan’s carved out next to him, and he fits in there like a missing puzzle piece that Jeonghan’s been searching for his whole life. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night of the concert hits everyone like a stack of bricks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can feel the thrum of something </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive </span>
  </em>
  <span>surging through him, coursing through his blood and ringing in his ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s already December. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dizzying month spent mostly with Jisoo glued to his side spins right past him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s the concert now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s hearing, as expected, had continued to decline at a scarily fast rate. It’s to the point where Jisoo mostly relies on touches and hand signals to realize that someone is talking to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The pain’s been getting worse, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s no longer a cute “</span>
  <em>
    <span>thing”</span>
  </em>
  <span> between Jeonghan and Jisoo to curl up in a quiet corner of whatever room they happen to be in, for Jisoo to settle into Jeonghan’s lap and wait for the pain to subside, for Jeonghan to gently hold Jisoo’s ears to try and relieve it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so frequent that Jisoo can’t do anything about it most of the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it hits during rehearsals. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can tell because of the face Jisoo makes, contorted in quiet ache, unable to take a rest from the song because this is an </span>
  <em>
    <span>orchestra</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Jisoo needs to do his job or he’ll just be cut. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes it hits when they’re asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s been staying over at Jeonghan’s a lot, due to the fact that they don’t go out too much. Jisoo’s sudden migraines and earache hit at any moment, so to be in public would just be a nuisance. Jisoo’ll shoot up in the middle of the night with a dull scream, prompting Jeonghan to wake up and hold him until the shaking of Jisoo’s shoulder stops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the concert is </span>
  <em>
    <span>tonight</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and no matter how much Jeonghan wants Jisoo to just take it easy (the intensity of the orchestra’s sound, especially when Jisoo’s in the middle of the whole thing, doesn’t do any good for his hearing loss), he knows he can’t ask him to do that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo just has to hold on for one more night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sits in his seat, waiting for the lights to snap on, for the heat of the air to tingle against his skin, for the conductor’s cue to ready his instrument, for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span> to play again, his new seat, his new </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, for the rebirth that he’s been waiting for to start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The critics had been nice to him, at the very least. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>World-renowned cellist, Yoon Jeonghan, steps off the stage for treatment!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Has his time finally come, for Yoon Jeonghan to hang up his bow?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yoon Jeonghan supposedly in treatment for torn wrist ligaments!</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Will Yoon Jeonghan be another early retirement in the world of music? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Only time will tell. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan has to chew his cheek as hard as he can to stop twitching around in his seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The air is suffocating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The hard plastic chair he’s sitting on makes his legs ache, or maybe it’s the weight of his cello pressing up against his thighs like an incessant, boulder-sized dog that won’t budge. The red flower tucked into his uniform pocket prickles against his skin through the fabric of his shirt. (It’s for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Christmas, </span>
  </em>
  <span>stated by the conductor himself with a festive smile on his face. Everyone had rolled their eyes but obliged him.) </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s the cue for getting ready to play the song and Jeonghan’s mind blanks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing matters now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing else but him and the sheet of music in front of him, pointless because he’s already memorized the piece by heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lights on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Audience quiets down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Conductor sucks in a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan feels his throat tighten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His bow is ready to strike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And a one. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Three. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Four. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s time for Jeonghan’s favorite song of the night to start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pas de Deux. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s sweating furiously now, with his arms aching and his wrist screaming for relief. He’s surprised because it hadn’t been hurting him too bad during rehearsals, but right now, all he can feel is the surge of something sharp and stinging digging into his ligament, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>refuses </span>
  </em>
  <span>to focus on it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is his last stage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t waste his time thinking of something as fleeting as his wrist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter if he blows it out at this point, considering the fact that he’s made up his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Today’s his last night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Last stage. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Last time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So Jeonghan pours every ounce of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>soul </span>
  </em>
  <span>into it, he draws his bow back and forth with vigor he hasn’t felt in years, Jeonghan closes his eyes and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> what to do by heart, he can feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span> flowing through his body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo’s solo is coming up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan finally opens his eyes. He doesn’t want to miss this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Can’t miss this. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo makes eye contact with Jeonghan from across the stage and gives him a knowing wink. Jeonghan quickly rolls his eyes but finds himself leaning towards the edge of his seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Jisoo plays. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The haunting melody of the song sings throughout the air and Jisoo elbows are hardly moving but his fingers are dancing across the strings and his face is contorted into one of utmost concentration but it’s strange, because he doesn’t usually look like he’s struggling - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan recognizes that look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart stops for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ears must be hurting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jisoo presses forward, he doesn’t just play the music, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, in this moment, with the stage lights beating down on him and outlining his body like a white halo, Jeonghan can’t help </span>
  <em>
    <span>but </span>
  </em>
  <span>to stare, he’s just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there’s just something both ethereal and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ephemeral</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he looks like he’s about to snap in half any moment, with his jaw squaring as he grits his teeth and his shoulders bob up and down like shallow tides - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s almost time for Jeonghan to start playing again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He notches his bow and counts the beats and then his fingers are sliding over the strings again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s his last performance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan feels his heart constrict. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hurts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a mess in the rehearsal hall once the concert ends, but the night is forced to end at one point and Jeonghan is by himself in one of the practice rooms behind the actual concert hall. Jisoo’s in the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a quiet two minutes of waiting, and Jeonghan can’t find anything to do but to think about everything going on in his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s over. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan had announced his retirement at the end, and had left the stage with cheers and flowers being thrown at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s bittersweet at best. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolls around a stray rose that he picked out of his congratulatory bouquet earlier and Jeonghan stares at the stem, wondering why someone would bother to shuck the thorns off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a rose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s meant to be protected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi? I’m back,” Jisoo pokes his head into the practice room and squints. “Why aren’t you turning the lights on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan slides off the chair he’s been perched on and grabs his bouquet. A couple of stray red petals flutter to the floor and Jeonghan can’t help but vindictively step on them while making his way to Jisoo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re leaving, anyways, so.” Jeonghan holds his hand out and gives Jisoo a tired smile. He can feel his eyelids sagging under the weight of his own exhaustion and he doesn’t want to do anything but throw himself into his shower when he gets home and fall asleep with Jisoo by his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi,” Jisoo fidgets with the strap of his violin case before shouldering it. “I can’t hear you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan drops the bouquet. “Do your ears hurt, do you need me to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My hearing’s shot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t hurt anymore, Jeonghan-ssi. I think tonight’s my last night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s not processing Jisoo’s words correctly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi, I can’t really hear anything anymore. I think my hearing’s gone after tonight. I’m reading your lips at this point. Your voice sounds muffled and quiet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stop talking like it’s so simple. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Take that stupid expression off your face, Jisoo, the look that says it’s not that big of a deal, Jisoo, it’s not the time to be straightforward, Jisoo, please</span>
  </em>
  <span>- </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan-ssi?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan blinks. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks down and his feet move closer together like he’s shy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember the promise you made me? A while back, in the car when we were on our way back from my doctor’s visit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan freezes up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo looks up, eyes shining wetly under the dim glow of the moonlight that streams into the room through the window cracks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo smiles so brightly, </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the way his rounded lips curve up into a grin, his teeth shining like crazy, eyes crinkling at the corners with puffy wrinkles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan just has to say three words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He means them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t want to say it if it were a lie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words aren’t coming out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry for making you stay with me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo. Listen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Jeonghan-ssi,” Jisoo keeps the smile on his face. “I love you so much. I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, please stop, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo leans forward and presses a small, chaste kiss into Jeonghan’s cheek and Jeonghan feels the wet slip of tears sliding on his face, but he can’t tell if they’re his own or if they belong to Jisoo. He squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to see the expression on Jisoo’s face when he pulls away. Jisoo looks so kind, always so </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Jeonghan feels like throwing up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Jeonghan-ssi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go like this, please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan opens his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room is quiet, and the only thing Jeonghan can see are the blood-red rose petals scattered around the floor, crushed under the weight of feet and dead dreams. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan clutches his necktie, desperate to try and breathe properly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>suffocating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would have been that simple. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you - </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SECOND TIMES THE CHARM AM I RIGHT? hahofeoijf ANYWAYS enjoy this sad festering chapter of angst. does it even count as angst at this point im not sure but NEOFJ kinda made myself a bit sad there ngl.  but fr hope you guys all enjoyed ! as much as one could!</p><p> </p><p>i know times are tough right now but please, above all else, stay safe and be careful! love you all.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. take my hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uhmmsuhhmmmmm. </p><p>two year time skip :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>2 years later </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A lot changes in two years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan can attest to that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo is long gone, and Jeonghan is alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After his early retirement, he had announced to the world that he would be working as a professor of music theory at his old university. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan, as it turns out, hates grading papers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hates being without Jisoo even more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s lonely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo sends letters. Once a month, Jeonghan’ll open up his mailbox and in it, will be a beige envelope made of some kind of thick paper with a red string tied around it. It’s pretty fancy. All signed with his loopy script, perfectly printed address, and Korean-flag stamp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan hasn’t read a single one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> have them filed in chronological order in a box. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does</span>
  </em>
  <span> have them all unwrinkled and in perfect condition, stored away in his desk like a time capsule that’ll never see the light of day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all very stupid. Jeonghan is too scared to see what the letters say. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s made a small deal with himself, to read them once the letters stop coming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t want forgiveness. Knows he doesn’t deserve it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo is still so pretty, in his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Wonwoo says as he enters Jeonghan’s office. “You busy? I picked up some lunch for you, since Mingyu said you were busy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Thanks so much,” Jeonghan replies, throwing his pen down. He’s knee-deep in essays about rhythm and meters and something else that he doesn’t really care too much about. (Damn. He should’ve just agreed to teach the actual players. Music theory, his ass.) “But what brings you here? You don’t really drop by the university spontaneously.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just wanted to check up on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lies.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Singular,” Wonwoo grins and takes a seat across Jeonghan’s desk, dropping the bag of food on top of the wooden surface. Jeonghan takes it with a thankful nod. “Mingyu’s holding a special lecture today. It’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey! Be thankful that I’m gracing you with my presence, Jeonghan. You’ll miss it when I’m gone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ew. You sound like Seungkwan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Wonwoo’s joking giggle stops and he leans forward in his seat almost conspiratorial. “Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Seungkwan</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Stole Hansol away from you and everything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Wait, what? No, he didn’t steal Hansol away, we broke up. He’s my student teacher. Crazy fucking world, ri - wait, are you telling people that Hansol and I broke up because of Seungkwan? Because, we didn’t. We did </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We just broke up because of personal differences.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, because he wanted to fuck Seungkwan and you didn’t? Next point, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it was because Hansol couldn’t shut his big fat stupid fucking mouth and spilled his guts to Seungcheol so I had to come clean, that mother</span>
  <em>
    <span>-fucker</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn. And people say you’re still bitter,” Wonwoo gives Jeonghan a cheeky smile. Jeonghan kind of wants to punch him, maybe. A little bit. Just a tad. “You really showed them, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a very sharp pen two inches away from my hand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm. Sounds great.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think it’ll hurt, you know, if it ends up in your stomach? I don’t know. Just something we could test out right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aim for my shoulder. I missed my last acupuncture appointment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. You’re impossible. Get out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No! Wait, I had to drop something off,” Wonwoo reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a blank envelope, so crisp that it kind of looks fake. “The secretary lady asked me to hand this to you. She had to rush off to the bathroom. Said something about her bladder flooding? I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Huh,” Jeonghan holds his hand out so Wonwoo can give him the envelope. Jeonghan takes it with a bit of pensive thought, wondering who it could be from. “I’m not expecting anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The envelope is blank, save for the stamp and Jeonghan’s name scribbled especially sloppily on the back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it say who it’s from, at least?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope. I’ll open it later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds good. Well, I have to go pick up Mingyu but this was nice, you know, catching up. Getting threatened with a writing utensil. Fun stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why? Are you still in here? Get out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo laughs and claps his hands together. “Fine, fine. You’re taking care of yourself these days though, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yup. Everything’s fine, Wonwoo. I’m good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good, Jeonghan,” Wonwoo sighs and his hand is on the doorknob (which Jeonghan wishes he would just turn so he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please) but he pauses for a second. His easy expression falters and Jeonghan gets ready for some kind of lecture about how getting older means needing to put more care into oneself, but Wonwoo’s next words are nothing of the sort. “You deserve to be happy, Jeonghan.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, sure?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L-look. Don’t get mad at me for this -”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel like I most definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jeonghan feels a nervous tingle spread throughout his stomach and he can’t help but fidget with the hem of his shirt. “Spit it out, Wonwoo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo called me yesterday. Asked me if I could tell you that he’s leaving soon. He’s moving to Switzerland. Apparently he’s been sending you letters, but you never responded, so he assumed you moved on. I just said I didn’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wonders just how much power Jisoo has over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>mention</span>
  </em>
  <span> of his name has Jeonghan’s head reeling in a million different directions, and he’s left with the feeling of being punched from every which way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“O-oh. Well. I guess. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about getting back together with him. Eh. Two years is a long time to be hung up over someone, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan, you were ready to practically throw yourself off a bridge at the drop of a hat because of Seungcheol for </span>
  <em>
    <span>five years</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So, don’t blame me for </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking that you still want him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, really! I’ve, you know. Grown up and stuff.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jeonghan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if you lie to me, but at least don’t do it to yourself. I can’t, you know. Force you to go talk to him but if you’re okay with Jisoo being gone after this, then I guess there’s nothing that can be done. Poor kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wonwoo’s phone rings. “That’s Mingyu. I’ve got to go, but good luck. Bye!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s surprised he’s still sitting upright at this point. Every nerve in his body feels like it’s one fire and he wants to somehow jump out of his own skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Switzerland. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants to throw up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo must still be so pretty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan is most definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay with the sudden knowledge of Jisoo’s move (and more than shocked at the fact that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Switzerland</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he’s jetting off to), and it leaves him with a dull ache in his chest that mimics a cramp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s never opened or responded to a letter sent by Jisoo before, but that’s just because he knew Jisoo would still be reachable if he tried. It wouldn’t matter if he did anything with the letters, because, well? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In some parts of Jeonghan’s head, Jisoo was still close by. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could just open up his drawer and the return address would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> within hands reach, at the ends of his fingertips. Jisoo was just somewhere nearby. Always.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Switzerland? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s random. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And far. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Really. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fucking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s probably Jeonghan’s fault. Somehow, everything is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can admit to himself that he still wants Jisoo. If he were going to be dramatic, he’d wax poetic about how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jisoo by his side to feel safe, to feel happy, to feel things he hasn’t felt before, blah, blah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>blah</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan looks at his warped reflection shaking around on the stainless steel coffee mug he has on his desk and wonders why he’s such a coward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Selfish</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan’s not a coward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s selfish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should read the letters. Or figure out if he wants to go see Jisoo (which he does; there’s no argument about that). Or maybe just figure out a way to not exist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To leave everything behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants a fresh start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No cello, with it’s stupidly big body and hard sides that made Jeonghan’s thighs kind of sore every time practice ended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No Jun, with his messy kisses and shy accent and the way he left Jeonghan confused with the way he felt towards </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the first time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No Seungcheol, with his destructive presence and lack of routing, that exact same spontaneity that made Jeonghan go crazy and left him broken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No Jisoo, with his soft words and skin and kisses and perfect face and voice and fingers, those fingers that held his violin just as preciously as he held Jeonghan’s hand, with his dark hair and bright eyes, with his strained moans whenever Jeonghan tried to tease him more than he had to and his cries in the middle of the night when he had to be held just a bit tighter, the way his head molded so perfectly into Jeonghan’s chest, the feeling of his everything - </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe not give up </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jeonghan feels a headache coming on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> have Jisoo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants a new reality. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Jisoo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He needs to start with the letters. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been two months since I’ve seen you. I know it’s a bit dramatic, but I can’t seem to find the courage to text or call you. So I’ve been debating on whether or not I should send a letter. I’ve rewritten this one letter a million times, I think. I’ve gone through so much stationary that I think the paper store lady thinks I’m dying. Or writing a book. Or something. I don’t know. I bought a lot of envelopes and pretty sheets of paper but none of them looked good. Nothing I wrote sounded good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m stalling. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want you to know that I’m sorry. It was unfair of me to ask such a big favor. Saying “I love you” to someone isn’t something you rush, but I did that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would just like to see you again. I won’t expect anything, I swear. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know I didn’t get a response to the last one but I think I’ll keep trying. I’ll give myself a deadline of two years. I think that’s kind of pushing it, since two years is a long time, but I just want an excuse to contact you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I certainly hope it won’t take two years to hear from you. I’m still too scared to call. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I hear your voice, I might want too much again. I might end up selfish again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope you’re doing well. It’s winter for real, now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I mean, it was winter before but now, it’s so cold. It should be spring soon, though. Don’t you think?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I take walks to the park we got together in. It’s like I’m waiting for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I won’t be selfish, Jeonghan-ssi. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I got sick. It kinda hurts, I guess. But it’s not too unbearable. I don’t know. I’m bored right now, I bit, which is why I’m writing another one of these. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m okay with sharing you, Jeonghan-ssi. I just want to be with you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have the confidence to say that I’m good for you, or right for you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I lied. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to share you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I would cry, if I saw you with someone else. Sorry if that's been greedy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t help it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s been about six months since I’ve started sending these, and I know I haven’t gotten a response. But still. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s comforting. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe these are reaching you, maybe they aren’t. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Remember when you said you’d help me when my ears hurt? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish you were here right now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My ears are hurting quite a bit. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m getting sicker for some reason. It’s like I’m doing everything right, everything that the doctors are telling me to do, but I’m not recovering. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s a bit lonely in this hospital. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s spring. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Very pretty. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So much. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My ears hurt. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo-ssi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Those past two letters were very bad in quality. Please excuse me, I was in the hospital. The drugs kind of knocked me out for a while. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll be time to give up soon. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve already hit the fifteen-month mark. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How many of these letters have I sent? Close to thirty now, probably. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It must be so annoying. I just can’t seem to let you go. More than a year has passed, but I still can’t seem to move on. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m in the hospital again. The stays are getting longer. Hmm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor says I might have to go somewhere else for a more specialized treatment plan. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I hope it’s not too far. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi,</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s two weeks before my two-year mark. It seems fitting to be writing this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I need to go to Switzerland. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, I guess I can’t say I need to, but, there are doctors there that will better be able to help me. My lungs are weak, is that the doctors keep telling me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to see the cherry blossoms with you in the spring. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Everything hurts but sometimes when I think about holding your hand and walking down a path of cherry blossom trees in bloom, it hurts less. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to see you, please. I won’t ask for much. I don’t mind if you don’t like me anymore. I just want to see you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m scared to be by myself, Jeonghan-ssi.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>From, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’d like to start off by apologizing for the packaging. I had to have a nurse write this for me, since my arms are kind of weak. It’s not as embarrassing as I thought. I’m sending this to Wonwoo-ssi first, just because I want to make sure it gets to you. Maybe you haven’t responded to the other letters because you didn’t get them properly. Who knows. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If this makes it to you, I hope you read it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m very sick, it seems. And it doesn’t look like it’ll get better. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I lied. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m leaving sooner than I thought I would. Switzerland. It’s such a long flight. I googled it before. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I just want to say, I’m sorry. I’m not sure for what, but I know that it’s my fault that I’m not with you anymore. I should have tried harder. I should’ve stopped crying faster. You must’ve been so tired everyday, having to wait for me to calm down from my nightmares and earaches.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You should have talked more about yourself. I’m just realizing now that I don’t know much about you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But maybe I do? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You like black tea. I feel like you pretend to enjoy the bitterness just for show. Your face always scrunches up. Sometimes I snuck sugar in it so you wouldn’t cringe as much. Sorry about that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t like when the air inside of your apartment is humid. I think it’s the sticky floors. I kept using your slippers, remember? And you didn’t even get mad. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You like when the toast is seconds away from burning into a crisp. It’s so strange. I can’t enjoy that taste. I guess it’s acquired. I liked when it was morning and you’d be in the kitchen, crunching on toast too black and I would be sitting across from you and you’d just pat my head because I kept putting it down on the table and I wouldn’t do much but you’d always pat my head. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t like when your bow has even a single stray string on it. Sometimes in the middle of practice, I’d see you hunched over the bow, using your fingers to pluck out a hair like it was the worst offense in the world. Jungwoo and I always laughed about it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You like it when I put my head on your lap and you’re reading a book and there’s soft music playing in the background, always classical, and I’m falling asleep so you can carry me back to the bed and you tuck me in and we just fall asleep like that, quiet and covered from the world. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t like it when I break a cuddle, even if it’s just to push a hair out of my eye. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You like it when the sun filters in through your windows and they make that striped pattern on the floor so you can stand on it and it makes shadows on your skin and it moves around like a beam. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t like it when you can hear a lawnmower going off in the morning because it’s unnecessary, right? It always is and no one should be up at seven, mowing their lawns because this is Seoul, what is there to mow, anyways?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I could go on forever. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I lied. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m leaving today. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you’re reading this letter, it means I’ll be gone. Switzerland. Maybe I’ll be flying overhead. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I wanted to hear it from you, when I didn’t even say it myself enough. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wish we were standing under cherry blossoms right now, but we aren’t and my lungs are burning and my arms can’t even hold up this stupid pen. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay. The nurse had to leave, so I’m writing this part by myself now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shoot. Sorry for those tear stains. Can’t help it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jeonghan-ssi, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I keep lying about everything. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Korea seems so small now. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry for leaving you behind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, Jeonghan-ssi. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Jisoo. </span></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo, I can’t believe it. Can’t believe you,” Jeonghan breathes out, after about an infinity of holding his breath and trying to figure out what he’s going to see. The field that he’s somehow landed in seems to stretch on forever around him. Jisoo sure picked out a hell of a meeting place, in the middle of nowhere in the countryside. But the flowers are so nice. “You said you were in Switzerland.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo smiles back, but doesn’t answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is all so stupid, Jisoo. It could’ve been so easy. I should’ve just been honest. I love you, Jisoo, and I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you before but I’m saying it now. Actually, let me tell all of it to you now,” Jeonghan closes his eyes and feels the warmth of the sun heat up his skin like magic. “I love you. There’s no way I couldn’t. I should’ve read your letters faster. I don’t know why I was so scared, but I was. I’m sorry. I love you so much. Well, I know you can’t, you know, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> me directly right now, but you understand my lips moving, right? Good, Jisoo. I love you. I’ll keep saying it until I lose my voice. I love you. Should I say it more?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan sits down on the grass, eye level with Jisoo now. The bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand seems to stand up straighter than he thought possible, with the petals reaching upwards as if they were in a prayer. Jeonghan sets them down on the ground and watches as his pants soak up the green from the grass he’s on top of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Jisoo, you liar. You beautiful liar. You said you were in Switzerland, and you were here all along. You were right here. I missed you. I should’ve come sooner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan lays down on the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jisoo is silent, which is expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun is still incredibly hot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a quiet humming that Jeonghan hears, somewhere in the back of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a pretty melody. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo. Is it lonely there, without me? You said you were lonely. I was so lonely, too, without you,” Jeonghan turns onto his side and feels his hip dig into the uncomfortably hard soil but he wants it to hurt more, so much impossibly more. Wants it to bruise. Wants it to leave something permanent. “I’m so sorry for leaving you alone. I shouldn’t have done that. Jisoo, don’t be lonely, okay? I’ll be there soon, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun is unbearable. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan clutches the bouquet into his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jisoo. I wish you would say something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan traces his finger through the carving of Jisoo’s name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The stone is too rigid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He would’ve picked a smoother one. Marble, maybe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo, you must be so lonely right now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants to hear him laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan wants to see him smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His tears are blurring up his vision of the stone beneath his hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so rough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jisoo. Is it mean of me to ask why you had to leave first? You should’ve waited for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jeonghan doesn’t cover up his sob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It smells like summer everywhere. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t leave me again, please,” Jeonghan traces and traces and traces Jisoo’s name over and over and over again. “Take my hand, one last time, I promise I won’t let you down. I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would have been that simple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you -</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun is blinding. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Jisoo was, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>uhhhh to be fair i originally had jisoo die in a firey car accident on his way to meet jeonghan while jeonghan ended up watching the scene unfold BUT but but but BUT i did not do that and instead i did this. </p><p>rip jisoo can we get an f in the chats boys 😪</p><p>thank you so much to the love you guys have shown to this fic i literally love all of you guys tytytytytyty!!! forever grateful for the kind words. </p><p>ill be back to regularly updating my other fics next week! hehehe</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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